Under the calm damp shade of some trees in a field that wildflowers have made into their home, you're lying on your back.
There's a change in your heart rhythm.
An unfamiliar numbness creeps in.
Your breathing becomes a little laboured.
There's a sick feeling in your stomach.
Your gaze is fixed upon your delicate fingers as they slowly tear apart the beautiful purple flowers you had been holding.
Lately it seems like thats what you do with most things.
But you're starting to do it less.
You wonder if any of this matters.
It does.
you cant stay the same forever.
Its change, its necessary
Everything is burning and growing and changing and you're slowly getting better.
Not all good things last but neither do all the painful things.
Your desolation is quieting down and becoming easier to get through.
Close your eyes and pay attention to the sound of the gentle breeze swaying the grass in the field of flowers you lie in.
its going to be okay.