It seems as though a whole bunch of things are happening to me at once, while some part of me is aware that nothing is really happening to me.

I don’t understand it. I don’t know that I want to.

I just hope I don’t lose my heart in whatever process this is that I’m in. Because it feels at times as though pieces of me are dying.

I feel as quiet tonight as I did last night. Only it’s something other than quiet. Something more. I keep holding my breath. All day long, all night long, I’ve caught myself holding my breath. I’m afraid that I am doing something to my heart. Hardening it, perhaps. I am afraid that I am giving up. Not on life, but on magic.

Growing up feels like dying. It’s sorrowful and lonely. I don’t want to lose hope, but it’s so painful to hold onto it. To look around myself, stare into the stark absence of magic, and hold on to the hope of finding it someday. I honestly don’t know what hurts more, to give up hope or continue having it.

I’m afraid that with hope, so goes my heart.

The truth is, I will always choose hope. I will always believe. I may suffer more for it, but there’s no cause for me to fear the choice I will make because I won’t ever give up. It’s just not who I am. For better or worse. It’s both, I think. The best and the worst of me.