I have began measuring life not just in numbers and years
But in sunsets and trees blossoming and brilliant views.
You cannot calculate my growth by the notches no one bothered to etch on my bedroom wall.
Neither can you understand my scars by nicks and scrapes, mine are covered decently.
You cannot grasp my metamorphosis by the skin I’ve shed or the baby teeth I’ve lost.
It cannot be determined in anything I’ve lost or in what’s marred me. It can only be quantified in what remains, in what withstood every storm and every disruption of my heart.
You can see my growth simply by the fact that I am still standing here, believing that this world is still an inherently good place to laugh, to hurt, to love, to lose, to exist, to heal, to blossom. That no matter how undone we were the night before, the miracle is that we are still standing…
We are, essentially, what withstood all the disruption and that’s okay..😍🥰
No comments:
Post a Comment