half full.

when people die, life comes spiraling back into perspective. they were here. now they’re gone. that could be me. you think. things could be so much worse. for a while, you stop worrying about the little things. you wonder: how could i be so selfish? but, unfortunately, the feeling fades. and we find ourselves returning to the trivialities of our lives.

you can’t spend your life looking at the world in that way. everyday is to be lived, yes. but when you start hating yourself for worrying about something that seems so insignificant compared to a death or illness or starving child, you’re beating yourself up. you’re allowed to be sad because you were dumped. you’re allowed to be upset when you have a bad day. you’re allowed to sweat the small stuff.

just as long as you know, when you pull it into perspective, in the end, none of that matters.

life is so precious.


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