Dear Self,

Today you wept.

Today you sang.

Today you danced a moment and wept again.

You reached out... your hands fell on a castle made of sand, and you found yourself gripping nothing.

You reached out again as a wave leapt forth, and you connected with it for a moment before it receded from you and from the shore.

If you had faith, you wouldn’t call yourself alone.

At least that is what you tell yourself, so you call yourself lonesome.

Stricken and strangled by grief, you hold back wails and screams, burdened by depression you hold back the desire to set yourself free.

But you’ll read this one day feeling grateful, light, at peace.

Not feeling like you wish you could close your eyes and close your eyes and close your eyes.

One day.