it's worth it.
I keep half-expecting my head to drop and jolt me awake — removing me from the haze of emotions and unformed thoughts. But no, I glance out my window to see the breaking of a new day—I am already awake. The haze is a reality I will not wake from.
I look down at my hands resting in my lap and see that they are not empty... in my right hand, my fingers are tightly wrapped around my precious crystal memories. I glance at my left hand and see something that I've seen time and time again. Why does it always work that way? In the palm of my left hand, I try to hold onto a piece of me that lingers for a moment before quickly disappearing to form yet another little hole in my heart.
I find myself asking the question: is it worth it? Is it worth it to open yourself to enjoy deep fellowship, when in the end, the product simply slips through your fingers to be carried away on the wind like sand on a beach?
