Another friend died yesterday. And in such a tragic way. It plays like a movie in my imagination.
Pieces of me keep being cut out. How long until my heart is no more?
I can hardly remember who I used to be. I can't see who I'm becoming. Its so strange when you break. There's no way to go back to who you were. You wouldn't want to anyway. carefully crafting something magnificent, the old pieces will be so proud to become
Remember the first time we drove to those ancient trees.
The ones bigger than I could have dreamed a tree could be.
As old as my love will live for thee.
So many first times of beauty seen
were hand in hand
with that beauty queen.
“Be satisfied with even the smallest progress," Marcus Aurelius said.
You’re never going to be perfect—there is no such thing. You’re human. So instead, aim for progress, even the smallest amount.