#45 Cracked

Cast in that light once more, back to square one. What I fought so hard to leave behind came back just because I didn’t fight hard enough it keep it away.
Trying to keep it together is like cupping a little mound of sand in both hands, only to have it fall through just the tiniest gap between the fingers should they move the slightest bit apart.


Cracks in my resolve.


Which one is my solid ground when all around me is sinking sand?
Those words hit me hard, sent me reeling back into the catalogue of things I wish I didn’t have to think about, buried deep in the recesses of my mind. I don’t know if I have what it takes to be that rock. What if I can’t? Where do I go from here then?


I see a crack running longer, farther and wider, feeding off other cracks and breeding more of them.
The rock on which I stood may then perhaps no longer stand for me.
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