Sometimes life explodes in a good way – something new and exciting and completely unexpected happens, and you feel like your life has released the contents of a New Year’s cracker, or placed you inside a Times Square snowglobe, or rolled you around in cinnamon-sugar and set you atop a birthday cake. Wherever you look, you’re convinced that confetti is falling and banners are waving and your cheeks hurt from smiling and the soundtrack to your life is orchestral and triumphant and swelling past volume level 10 on the speakers, so loud that people next to you are starting to smile and dance along, even though they haven’t a clue why.
And sometime life implodes – there’s just one hard thing and then another hard thing and then another hard thing that is placed on your shoulders and around your ankles and over your heart until the pressure and weight of all those accumulated things force your back to break and your knees to fold. And as hard as you try to keep looking upwards, to find something beautiful to focus on, like the sky or the sun or the sound of someone humming to themselves, you fail, and you shatter, and you fall, with your throat silently bleeding and your eyes frozen open and drowning in tears that are too tired to come.
Life wouldn’t be so damn sad if it weren’t so beautiful, Creeter Readers.