"If I write what I feel, it's to reduce the fever of feeling."
And someone else would come to me and tell me that they wish they could be as lucky as I have been. I've had two children, and they are healthy. I haven't been homeless. I haven't broken any bones or faced cancer or lost a best friend in a car accident. I have enough to eat and clothes to keep my body warm and a car that I can drive to the doctor when I have a fever. I have parents that I count among my closest friends and people who pray for me and a Starbucks card with five dollars and forty six cents left on it.
The lucky parts are what keep us going.
It's the unlucky parts of us that hurt.
And I wish it was okay to say those things.
That we ache. That we are blessed.
That the blessings and the ache can both fit inside one beating heart.