A strand of possibility.

I spend the majority of my days being scared of the future. Feeling lonely. Inferior. Wanting so much for my life and for myself, but afraid that I'll never have that dream. Yet, somehow I still hold onto a small strand of hope that maybe one day it will all be worth it. The crying, and the worry. That one day it will all make sense. I guess I'm just holding onto the possibility of a good ending. And hopefully a happy one, too.

That strand makes each day worth living.