Why do some people have life handed to them on a diamond plated silver platter, while others are fighting merely to survive?
Me? I’m one of those that fight a different battle damn near every day…
You wouldn’t know it by looking at me. I seem happy! I smile when eye contact is made! When someone asks me how I’m doing I say okay! But as soon as I lock the deadbolt and drag that chain across my government assisted apartment door, the smile fades.
Some days aren’t as lucky…
I have to pull myself together on the drive in and mentally prepare for the possibility of running into one of my neighbors, and being asked the dreaded “How are you?” question. Oversized sunglasses are always useful for hiding tired sunken eyes and mascara runs that won’t wipe away.
My hazel eyes actually change colors when I cry…
They turn from a marble of blues and greys and brown, to a gorgeous shade of green. Whenever I go to the bathroom to clean up the mess my emotions made, I always stare into them and wonder how something caused by so much pain could be so beautiful.
Don’t get me wrong, I hate crying...
I hate the word hate, and I can honestly say I hate crying. I usually only do it in the shower so I can’t tell the difference between the tears and the water spraying my face. However this definitely causes problems for the morning routine when I get back into it.
Why? I haven’t the slightest idea…
