We hold life in our hands, sometimes it slips through. The tighter we squeeze, the faster the grains fall through our fingers. When loss no longer hurts, it becomes a tool. Eyes open to the reality, that your best sometimes just isn't good enough. There is no sadness in this realization, just an acceptance, for all our fuss, the world keeps turning. Today I sat next to an old friend, there's blood on our shoes, she busts into tears. There's nothing to say, today is her turn to break. I put my arm around her, I feel her tears on my neck, they get cold so quickly. She talks about quitting, this is something we all do, but we never will. We can't, how can you walk away from yourself? It's not yet 0900, and there's still 8hrs to go. When we meet again, maybe it'll be my turn to break. I think today is Tuesday, but without my phone I wouldn't know.