It must be hard, fuck, it must be so hard. When all you want to do is fall to the floor on your knees and break down. Cover your eyes and curse the world and what it stole from you. It must be hard. Faces walk past with tears uncontrollably streaming, eyes glazed over. With each passerby, I feel my heart being pulled further and further to the ground, all leading up to the point where we embrace and I feel your sorrow. As you sob into my shoulder, I try to find the words to say, but they don't mean nearly as much as simply silently letting you share your angst and pain. All the questions begin to flood in, the "Ifs-and-buts" and "what-ifs" and "if-onlys", till all you want, all you really want is for the ranting to stop. It must be hard, and I'm so sorry.

I gaze outward through the falling pitter patter of raindrops,
clear as day as they slide down my window pane. I always
thought that rain was the heavens way of giving the earth a
shower. So things can be clean and new, refreshed and nourished.
Its more than just great weather to sleep in to. Its upliftingly beautiful.