Maybe it’s just as much about what comes our way as it is how we react.
Just as much about the things that we’ve still got as it is about the things we lack.
I know we won’t always keep around all we feel we need—
some will fade in frames, some were born to leave—
But if we’re still here, and we still breathe,
I guess we’ve still got time to figure it out,
To know what to do,
To know how to feel,
Know the things that I’ve been making up inside my head, and
To know what’s real.
I want to believe that the way I am is just the way things go.
For the things that came, not the things I chose
to come.
I want to know if I had any control.
I want to know if it’d comfort me.
