It hurts the most that I have not been writing. It hurts the most that I am no longer making music. It hurts the most that I stopped doing things for myself. It hurts the most that I let my creativity die. Still, it never died in my heart. It hurts the most that I no longer make time for reading. It hurts the most that I only walk in the evening darkness. It hurts the most that cooking has become a rush. It hurts the most that I am so distracted by the phone in my pocket. Oh, how I crave that clear, open space. It hurts the most that I no longer travel to places that make me feel alive. It hurts the most that I only see my friends a few times a year. It hurts the most to have walked down countless dead ends. It hurts the most to think of all the dreams I'll never have time to pursue in one lifetime. But somehow, I make my peace. It hurts the most that I don't smile as much. It hurts the most that I chose money over passion. It hurts the most that I can't remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep. It hurts the most that a glass of red wine is my escape. Anything to quiet the mind. It hurts the most that I waste my days worrying about things that never happen. It hurts the most to long for what I can't have. It hurts the most to feel helpless. It hurts the most that I have this ability to procrastinate on every damn decision. What hurts the most is that I have no faith in myself. It hurts the most that someone I love is dying. And what rings and rings in the depths of my ears, is the time you said, "We never have fun anymore." It hurts the most that I have nothing left for you. It hurts the most to realise that by disappointing me, I disappoint you. It hurts the most that my kids mostly see the tired, angry, and exhausted version of me. It hurts the most to think of all the ways I am failing as a parent. But then I look at you, and your beautiful face, and I realise I am lucky and I am happy.
I've been away for a while. This is what came out when I finally sat down to write again.
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