No one ever told me that being an adult would be so hard, or maybe they did, and I just didn’t listen.
No one ever told me that holding on tightly to things might cause them to squirm within my grasp, or that it was possible to love something too much.
No one ever told me what finding a calling feels like, or losing one.
And I guess there’s a lot of things that no one ever told me, or didn’t tell me honestly, or that I didn’t understand.
I didn’t know that black doesn’t go with blue for business casual.
I spend a lot of time wondering what it is I’m wondering about. I spend a lot of time thinking that things are going to get better, and then they do, and then they get worse again. I’ve learned to breathe in ways that no one ever taught me, because I don’t think that they could have, and when things get better again, I smile. I hold my breath too much, and I sing too little, and I talk to myself when no one’s listening. I can lose myself in ways that no one ever told me.
I didn’t know that pain could feel like you’re suffocating. I didn’t know that love feels like a crying child in your arms. I didn’t know that I could hurt myself so badly. But I’m pretty sure I wanted to.
Wondering if pink is the color of happiness only got a girl so far, but I’m hopeful most days that it’s the color of lips and not the color of chest compressions.
I don’t know why it’s so easy to believe that all God’s creatures have a purpose when I haven’t completely figured out mine, but I do.
Speaking of which, this morning I woke up. I got out of bed. I went through my stretches and I learned that, sometimes, tears are cold. And no one ever told me that.