I saw a post done by a local artist from Massachusetts on Instagram. It read something like, sometimes I feel small, very small and unimportant.

I immediately liked it and shared it on the story, which can be found if you scroll all the way down.

But what really stuck with me is the simple fact, that that statement reflects my life.

I literately feel smaller than my dachshund who barely weighs 16lbs, but he has me who hugs him tight and gives him a ton of kisses.

I’m lucky if I get a text message. I’m not saying y’all’s support isn’t valid, because it does mean a lot that my blog can reach some of y’all and hopefully get you out of your pit whether it’s temporarily or for some length.

I’d hate to know others are struggling like me or worse mentally and spiritually.

I can sincerely tell you it’s not fun walking around holding back tears on a daily basis…every second of the day.

Doesn’t matter where you are, what time of the day, if you’re alone or not, they are just there tethering, waiting to drop.

I can handle rejection. I can pretty much handle anything but my emotions can’t. My mind can’t. I physically can but everything inside gets shattered into smaller and irreparable pieces.

Like a puzzle piece that’s missing that one piece and the puzzle is no longer made or available. So what do you do with it?

You toss it out?

Yeah, because what good will a puzzle with a missing piece will do for you? Absolutely nothing.

I am broken. I am missing pieces of tranquility in my life.

Therefore, I am useless. A void. Matter taking up space.

I used to think 37 years was enough of a life for me, whether I accomplished my goals or not. Now, 27 years looks like more than enough time.

Guess, I’ll see you around, if you can even see me.

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