Pause

The heart is a very small muscle, I wrote once in my youth, yet within its fragile walls lie all that love and gratitude that make up our existence. I had no idea, then, how a heart can stretch and bend, break and recover, did not know how much I could will it grow, or how it would grow even against my will. It's a great testament to the human spirit that it survives at all, that we endure this life with nothing to carry us but a small soft muscle the size of a fist.

The streets are full of disguises today, of blood and of fear, of a minute to be anyone but who you are. I know it's tempting to stay there. But take a deep breath and listen to the old brag of your heart. I am, I am, I am. It is not good enough for you to be so sad, so much. Maybe now is when you sink in and let yourself be happy.