People often say that
you need bad days to build better days.
You need rain to grow flowers.
But why does it feel like my bad days are endless?
My head feels like it’s eating up my heart.
Hollowing out every semblance what I used to be,
scooping out all my memories,
leaving the barren remains of a fragile heart.
This feeling of emptiness does subside, though.
Sometimes, when I’m reminded of
two hour phone calls,
incessant texting,
unending laughter,
my heart feels half full
rather than half empty.
But other times,
some things just hit you like a truck.
Brevity is layered in every little aspect of our lives,
we are one in seven billion.
In the end, who are we, really?
To feel sad, to feel happy.
We are nothing but mannequins,
living a life we were destined to –
no matter how empty, or how full,
and then eventually having to face
Death.
After all, Life is just four letters out of twenty six.