There are times when my vulnerability scares the living crap out of me. My anxiety does dictate my actions and my spirit does break when i over-analyze things to a point of darkness.
But there are also times when the most insignificant items make me want to pick myself up again. They make me feel like i exist. The sound of my ukulele; occasional trips; the scuff of my dad’s leather shoes on the flooring; the smell of my grandma’s creme anglaise; the call of my little sister whenever she has mathematical problems or just to have me answer back;… These 3 dots are the promise of having a greater list. They look like possibilities to me where one of them hides the belief of going above what is holding my spirit back today.