I Don't Know Who I Am

[Sunsets over Moonlight]

Three years ago, I woke up unable to remember anything before.
 
Failure stings. Getting up is exhausting.
It is a part of living.
Unmet expectations hurt.
It is a part of living.
Learning is overwhelming.
It is a part of living.
 
For as much beauty living has, it is equally as cruel.
The breaths I draw harkened a cold, unforgiving winter. 
A cycle I thought I would not wrest myself from.
I waited, begging for spring to come back with all the things I thought made living beautiful.
Instead, it is cruel.
I am hurt.
I am weak.
I am living.
Not existing, but navigating with purpose.
 
Living is lonely.
When it's lonely, it starts to feel like survival.
I want to share my sorrows.
I want to share my pain.
I want to share my joys.
I want to share my laughter.
 
Living is cruel but I never, ever want to stop.

 ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

 
sit with me under the
sunsets or moonlight?