in memory of

sometimes I forget how many times I’ve picked myself off the floor
how many times I’ve washed smudged eyeliner and mascara off my face
how many times I’ve read books I hated to be more informed
how many times I’ve cried on the bus ride after ending a 5am shift
how many times I’ve done something beyond my comfort zone
how many times I’ve said no to fries and yes to salads
how many times I’ve tended to my own wounds and
reconciled with my frustrations

but still I wake up each day feeling inadequate
reaffirmed by people around me

but hey
we are all trying
here’s to remembering that I’m doing the best that I can

Snapped in Inner Mongolia, during sunset.

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