Life is fragile.

Or is it that life is precious?

What if it really is true that you never know what you had until it’s gone? 

Can we learn to know what we have?

Blink your eyes. Too late, they’re gone. 

Answer your phone. Answer your phone. Answer your goddamned phone. 

Take a deep breath. 

Rage. Cry. Frantically google. 


Live. Die. Repeat. 

Isn’t that supposed to be a movie tag line? 

Fall apart. Pick the pieces up. Keep them safe. 

Breathe. Please breathe. Don’t you dare stop breathing. Fucking breathe. 

Rage more. Go numb. Drink too much. 

Love. Cry. Love more anyway. 

Run. Stop running because you can’t breathe from crying. Run more anyway. 

Life is terrifying. Life is hard. 

Listen to the waves crash on the shore. 

Breathe. Scream. Love still more. 

Pick out sympathy cards. Hate every second of it. 

Buy plane tickets. It’ll be ok. Repeat it louder until you start to believe it. 

Lose yourself in everything. Finally ask for help. 

Life is precious. It is fragile. It is terrifying. It is hard. 

Live. Love. Die. Repeat. 


About texancountess

I find myself in the calming roar of the sea, floating gently on the foam of the breaking waves. Blue. Green. Gray. The colors of the sea mark the boundaries of my soul. The tumbled glass finds its polish under the relentless pounding of the waves upon the shore. Thus am I. Rough transitioning to polish, refinement ever a process, finding my niche in the storms of life.
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