a floral sea

I could rile myself up a storm and drown in a thousand what-could-have-been’s, replaying the same memories over and over. But the truth of the matter is, I can’t bring myself up to do it. I can’t hate the people who hate me. At the end of the day, I come home to this empty house knowing who I am, who loves me and who I love. And that, is a good enough reason to put my feelings at risk— to keep living the way I do.