Giving up is like sinking in quicksand—easy to start, but nearly impossible to pull yourself out. I’ve wanted to sink plenty of times. To let yourself be devoured by nothingness, as strange as it seems, can be scarily inviting. But I can’t, and I won’t, because you still walk despite our struggles, despite a guilty conscious and a bruised heart. The way your skin wrinkles and your lion eyes glint in the sun—warmth radiates from them, forming the kind of smile that lips can’t make. When we were younger I used to think it was some sort of magic trick, but then I realized it’s just who you are. That’s how I know it, that we’ll be okay. Even with heavy, aching bodies, even when crawling on our knees, your warmth overwhelms my vision and I’m swallowed in light. The kind of light that never sinks into the horizon. Yeah, that’s you.
