There is a pressure. There is this bleeding pain. It radiates within me, covering me in this veil of shadow, this veil of doubt in myself. Something that tells me I am no better than the smallest grain of sand. That with the simple move of the tide I will be simply lostto everyone, and everything I have ever known.
How right I am. The time is slow in passing, and when you least expect it; it moves faster than you can take note of. This is my struggle, to get through day to day; to make my mark on this world lastingand go out as a pearl, and not simply a grain of sand.
How right I am. The time is slow in passing, and when you least expect it; it moves faster than you can take note of. This is my struggle, to get through day to day; to make my mark on this world lastingand go out as a pearl, and not simply a grain of sand.
you're such a remarkable, dynamic, entrancing young woman... and I know all this from our brief conversations and simple exchanges. you've made your mark... left your imprint... showed your presence... if not to the entire world... then at least to me... and that matters... maybe not to the whole world... not to those poor blind who only see the sand... but it matters to me. I see a little better than they.
I see the pearl.
I see you.