Why didn't anyone ever tell me that accepting the pain makes life so much better? As much as it hurts that my daddy left, as much as it hurts to see my momma in so much pain, I feel that much hope.
I'm not sure if it's spring coming out to show her beautiful face again, or if it's for the mere reason that my legs met up the with shining sun after so long.
Either way, it happened, and I feel as light as air. It's like the pain and bad is one type of sticker to stick on me and the excitement and happiness is the other type. Before, I had one saying: "Divorce: bad" stuck on me. Or another saying "Day with Friends: good" right there on my arm. Whatever seemed to have happened to me, it all defined me and who people saw me as.
But now, even though the bad may come at me, or the good may come at me, they just don't stick. There is no way to define my life now, except calling it mine. It's just one beautiful progression of living.
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