The things we don’t talk about

Everybody writes about persistence, about staying the course, about hanging on until we find what we want, but what about when we can't remain mellow and resolute and nonchalant?

What about when failures don't let us resurface? When we no longer have the will to rise, when there's a fire raging in the brain, when our grit is ripped to shreds and there's nothing in the universe that will allow us our space?

What of when we're tired of stumbling and falling and picking ourselves up over and over and over again? What of when rejections hit us in the belly and we can't stomach the pain?

What of when we're insecure? When we're jealous of moments, memoirs and memories that will never be ours, to begin with? When the dreams inside our head will be nothing but a myth?

What of when we hold on to words and promises and ties a little too tightly because we're scared we'll never find another? What of when we're quaking in our boots in fear? What of when we begin to pin all our hopes to a whimsical feather? When everything we've ever believed in, is hanging by a tether?

What about when we hit rock bottom, when there are no roses, just thorns around? When we're drowning in uncertainty and spot no sign of a rebound?

What about when our heart breaks? When we let go of somebody we've loved with all our heart, but never had the guts to say it out loud?

Why is there just a sprinkling of verses on the despair that wipes our smiles away? On the woe that tears us apart? On the anguish that heedlessly stows us in drought? Are 'em tears too real to be written about?

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