I feel guitly.

For having all these daily battles with myself, for going to bed with thoughts drowned in anxiety, for the urge to complain about the whirlpool that my life has turned into in the last couple of weeks.

All these while, 2000 km away from here, someone is fighting the war of his life with much more faith and belief than I’ve ever been capable of. In the most devastating moments of his life, he has found strength, optimism, faith, positivity, affection and an unbelievable sense of humour.

He’s the one telling me I need to be strong, stand straight and power through my fight. He’s the one telling me to keep my head high and really believe in a painless tomorrow. He’s the one telling me not to cry, as he’ll always be there to support my weakness. He’s the pillar my life leans on when it should really be the other way around.

I feel guilty.

For all the insignificant fights that I’ve turned into daily struggles, for beating myself up too often, for the lack of confidence and faith during times I needed them the most, for the lost enthusiasm and gratitude.


~ de Andra pe 03/10/2012.

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