every second is a second chance.

Dear you,

It's August and I finally think I'm going to be okay.

It's a weird moment when that hits you. When you think maybe everything is just going to be

okay.

Because sometimes you need that moment, more than anything else. Not that everything will turn out perfect, or everything will turn out how it does in your dreams. But just that everything's going to be alright, you'll be okay.

I haven't been okay at all this summer. I've been sad, I've been worried, I've been confused confused confused. I've been wistful and lonely and longing for something distinctly more.

But I haven't just been

okay.

I haven't been in that moment where I look around at everything and don't wonder how it all fits together or how things are going to turn out, and just think that it's alright no matter what happens. That even though my heart hurts and my insides hurt and my brain glorifies death more than it really should, I'll be okay. It's okay, it's okay to just be myself, to just let things happen, to just let myself be, to maybe be okay with crying or laughing or being nervous or not knowing what the fuck to say because, let's face it, I screw things up like 90% of the time and sometimes I think really beautiful things but my mouth opens and spews out nothing but nonsense and someone used the word malarkey and myself in a sentence the other day and my heart sort of dropped five feet into the pit of infatuated fascination for a split second before I reminded my heart that it was a really bad idea to do that and maybe I should get the fuck back to reality before I dropped down any further, but it's okay to have that happen just a little.

It's okay.

People have died this summer and people have given birth and people have fallen in love and people have laughed and cried and smiled and hoped and more than anything else people have grown.

And I've learned to think that maybe I'll be okay.

Maybe that isn't a whole lot for an entire summer. Maybe that's actually pathetic to some people. Because like I said, people have grown up, have moved on, have gotten jobs, have joined together, have broken apart, have changed.

And so have I.

My change may be small. It may not matter to the people who fell in love or the people who were born or the people who attended funerals. But it doesn't need to matter to them. It just needs to matter to me.

Those new cracks and fragments floating around in my chest from a rejected heart that learned to be okay and from a shy, naive hope that had to grow up and be okay, and from a gray world that begged for color but didn't know how crayons worked until it learned gray was in the crayon box too and it's okay, and my awkward spewing and trying to come to grips with the fact that I don't know who I really am but it's okay, and maybe saying "fuck" once in awhile is okay too, even though I can't say it around my family because I'm sort of a coward with really super warped standards even though when I'm driving that's like all I ever say and maybe that's okay in some weird way, and that's all that really matters is that

I'm okay.

I don't know what I want or where I'm going or how things are going to be a week from now, or a month from now, or who is going to be dead and who will have been born and who will be falling in love and who will be breaking hearts and who will be returning home and who will be finding a new home but all I know is that I want to still be

okay.

I want to be okay and keep being okay and learn to maybe be a more okay than I am right now. Because my okay right now is a bit fragile and new and nothing but a tiny spark inside me that wants to be more than just okay.

But just okay is fine for now.

Sincerely,
xx
Blue