
I find it hard to write about positive things, of trees that wave within the breeze, of hearts conjoining, brilliant eyes meeting yet still sleepy in the morning, of puppies playfully pouncing on their owner’s chest, of a baby’s breath rustling quietly whilst she’s in bed, her subtle yawning. I find it difficult to write about the joy of nature, to write about the light within the sky, describing it in a manner that’s perfect for its sumptuous bursts of coloured fire. I find it easier to describe the desolate, and the despairing, the pain and suffering that my heart and mind have met, I find it hard to scrawl about that warmth in the sky and how it affects my mind, makes me want to fly, I find it hard, not to speak of such things, but to detail them when I write. I am over-practiced with explaining the darker side of my life, my saddened feelings, the heightened strife, I may be a happy person beneath it all, but I certainly know how to make it clear that I have been affected negatively; somehow, I always end up letting you all know. I find it hard to not be depressing as I sit here penning, I find it difficult to flip the switch and create something bright and sparkling, something that will brighten your mood and something that will heighten your morning, alleviate your prior suffering and send you into a state of smiling that is most definitely worth experiencing, something that will last longer than a feeling of saddened knowing. © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. Photo by Mathieu Stern on Unsplash
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