Once, just once, someone would look me in the eye and tell me it’s going to be ok.
I seem to do all the fighting for anyone and everyone because that’s what we’re meant to do. We’re meant to help each other, but why does no one ever help me?
People seem to forget I’m only human too.
After the knock down I faced yesterday I decided to let it all go and succumb for the briefest of moments.
It felt good.
Now I’ve shaken off the remains of the hurt and started walking down my long road again.
Why do we do carry on and get up after every fall?
The answer is simple; because we have no other choice.