It's too hard, I think at myself in the early morning, 6 am and a deep hangover will not let me sleep. I don't know what I'm doing with anything. The to-do list spreads its cloak around me, the headache refuses to subside, everything is smoke and mirrors but terrible. I remain in bed, trying to will out the days.
But a spring sun makes its way across the firmament, the dirty snow thaws into sparkling rivulets, I cannot help but go out and run into it. My legs heavy, my head heavy, but something in my chest tingles in that magic way it does come sunlight.
I fall down. Again, again, I forget that it's the same thing every year, I think this year's despair is unique but the thing is. In the same way I fall down, every year there is a magic that gets me up again.
If we just hold on a little longer,
I think things might just turn out alright.
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