February is always a hard month. That's why it's so short, I believe; the world couldn't handle the normal amount of days. But while I did have my fair share of sad, stressful days, looking back, it was actually a pretty good month. And hey, you gotta take the crookeds with the straights.
This morning it was my friend's birthday, and a late start, so we went to IHOP. It's basically a tradition now.
And, as if to say it's all going to be okay, I saw a rainbow at track today. It was a tiny little one, hiding in between the clouds, but it was there nonetheless.
We've made it through another February, another winter.
I'm sorry this isn't poetic -- not for your sake as much as mine. But my life isn't a poem; at least, not one I've ever read, and not one I've had the patience to write yet. My days of late are filled -- I started to say what with, but realized I could better leave it like that -- and there are a lot of things I could say but at the same time, can't.
My fingertips are brimming with stories but I don't always have the time for more than just a cursory list in a journal to get everything out of my mind. I wish, more often than not, that I could just write it all up in one long letter to someone who'd care.
Maybe, someday, I'll just write it all into a novel.
Maybe someday, in between everything else, I'll find the right words and maybe, more importantly, some courage alongside them.