a hard thing.

a hard thing is when you can’t remember why you believed some things. you wait and you try to sort it out but the answers you would’ve given someone else don’t make sense any more. you thought they would, you didn’t mean them to be silly and small answers, you expected they’d be real and comforting and true and wide enough. but things you thought impossible keep happening, and you wonder if grace is any more impossible or any bigger than everything hurtful in this impossible big world. sometimes the beauty is only barely staving off a lot of ugliness, like when your jacket’s too thin for the cold and no one offers you theirs.

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