Every day, the world hardens my heart, and the journey of adulthood makes me feel like I'm not myself. Every day, I suffer the harshness of the journey: the thoughts, the worries, the memories, the endings, the people, every path left unfinished, and from within myself. Every day, I feel a sense of not belonging to myself, to this place, to who I am, and I hate continuing down paths that drain me, paths imposed upon me by reality. Even though my hands are gentle, touching the wounds of others with tenderness, and my heart is peaceful beyond measure, brimming with childlike joy, and the smallest things bring it happiness. Every day, I feel regret that neither I nor my heart deserve all this struggle, and all we ever wanted were calm, tender days, a chance to heal, a chance to live.
