I see people who have it better than I do but do not work a fraction of how hard I work.
My jealousy gets to me sometimes.
I internalize it because I know that although things are rough right now, a peak will soon come.
It is when I feel most jealous that I keep my words to myself.
I could bitch and moan about all of the trauma that I have been forced to deal with. There is some trauma I will be affected by for years to come, probably until I die.
So I take pleasure in the little things. I ride my own melt. Life is in the details. Life is in Hemingway’s six word story.
Small things that go unnoticed are not by default weak. It is the silence where things happen. Loud noises, loud words, loud deeds are often the most empty.