We cry over little things, don’t we?
We cry over places that we are leaving behind.
We cry over things that turned from have to had.
We cry over losing money.
We cry over people who wouldn’t notice a smile missing from our face.
We cry over dams that were once bridges.
We cry over slow internet.
We cry over fiction.
We cry over our own mistakes.
We cry over crimes committed on us.
We cry over things that shall never be ours again.
We cry over people who were never ours.
Is it all worth the worry? Our eyes don’t merely tear when we cry, we’re tearing ourselves apart within.
The past is the past for a reason and space is scarce in one’s life. Open that little window and let worry take wings to fly out and diffuse. People and things must earn to make it to your life, shouldn’t they? If someone is in your past, the chances are, they deserve to stay there.
No place worth going has a shortcut, your sphere of joy being the first venue.