Jun 7, 2021
I sit in a bedroom I have sat in for 23 years and I try to imagine what I wanted and what I was feeling for each of those years. I know things but I can’t make myself know them, just like I feel them but can’t make myself feel them, not really. I don’t know if she would be proud or happy or excited but I hope she would be - I believe she would be. It’s just that I don’t feel, can’t feel, proud or happy or excited because my dreams are as out of reach as hers and I’ve moved mountains that felt like grains of sand when I lifted them but the rolling range ahead is the Himalayas and I’m an ant.
