solid ground below or a hand to hold or hell to pay

some days are harder than others. some days -- when i hit the wall for the thousandth time, or when watch people crane their heads to stare at me, or when i let myself think too hard about the things i miss -- i just want to throw everything down and cry and cry and cry. some days i just want to curl up around my pillow and sleep forever. but something keeps me pushing through, holding on. i don't know what it is. i don't know if it's stubbornness, or wanting to prove something, or those seconds when things are so normal i forget about everything. maybe it's none of those things. maybe it's all of those things. maybe it's sheer memories of friends and summer and love and all the times when things were great and the weather was warm and i could fling my arms up and spin around and around. i don't know. what i do know is that i'm still here, and you're still here, and neither of us are going anywhere. maybe that's it.