Surviving, right? It's not that shallow, It's not waking up in the early morning simply having all the guts to pass your day, It's not beautiful, surviving isn't beautiful. Social media has mistaken it to be art, it's not, it's the fuck not. It's a stomach ache in the middle of the night because you can't stop. It's when your own head turns out to be your main destroyer, but it's also a glimmer of hope at the end of the day. It's a hope to start, to be the last start.
