Wading in sad shores is futile

I’m not depressed, possibly overwhelmed but still happy. It’s pouring outside and I’m breathing in the cool air until the weather decides it wants to be spring again. I no longer volunteer myself to the past. I’m no victim. I’m strong, I feel like steel. Look at all that I was able to do; now unphased with a mind newly fortified. Trickles of sand are swept back into the sea, but the boulder withstands against the waves and I know which one I want to be


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