self

What season are you in?

We’ve all been there. The night seems longer and the heart beats like a million per second. You want to punch the wall. Or scream ’til your voice breaks. The frustration building up like fire in a corn field. And rain won’t come.

It feels like this drought will never end. But deep inside really what you feel is you’re drowning. From the monotony of days passing like a black and white movie. Or from the sound of your own voice hallow with sorrow. Self-doubt creeps in. Maybe it’s all for the best to just Β give up. And yet, you feel stupid hearing it coming from your lips.

There is still hope.

The sun will rise.

What is lost is lost.Β But there’s still tomorrow.

A new day will spring more hope. No matter what they say, you know the Best is Yet to Come. So hold on…

 

 

 

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