Dear me,

Becoming and losing coincide.

It’s a choice really.

Even though you don’t make it consciously.

Sometimes it feels like a rug being pulled beneath your feet

Tripping step by step trying to defy gravity

And moments of survival can trigger a falling spiral.

The kind of fall that keeps you grasping to catch the side of a cliff before you hit the bottom.

Before your breath is completely taken away.

You’ll get that feeling, like your floating to the ceiling and suddenly,

In a blink you can't stop your heart from pounding and it's getting hard to breath.

A subtle ache that makes you want to rupture,

Like a boil in your stomach that leaves you crippled.

We close our eyes to sleep, replaying memories of when liife was easy

Bloody knuckles and broken fingernails;

Grasping so desperately at the side of the cliff.

But, letting go doesn't mean giving up.

Isn't that breathtaking.

You can grip onto this cliff and never let go

But letting go is not giving up.

So I'm not asking you to do so.

I'm just asking you to not let this define you

Because, becoming and losing coincide

Our life has been flipped upside down

like a rug being pulled beneath our feet

Tripping step by step trying to defy gravity

And moments of survival can trigger a falling spiral.

But letting go is not giving up.

Isn't that breathtaking