I believe that in order to truly understand who you are and who you want to be, you have to crash. Hard.
Downfall, downward spiral, deterioration, whatever you want to call it. You have to truly hit rock bottom before you can truly appreciate your everyday life.
And I'm not just talking about shed a few tears, eat some ice cream, boo-hoo Nicholas sparks marathon moment. I'm talking about utter ball busting agony. The kind of pain that makes you feel like you simply cannot get enough air. The kind of pain that makes you feel like you're dead inside. Empty. Numb. Hollow. The kind of pain that leaves you sitting naked on your bathroom floor with no will to even shed a single tear because even the pure attempt of thinking about your life in the shower exhausts you emotionally. Or when you have barely any will to live anymore. You're just barely moving through each day, fighting against yourself and your own demons inside your head.
This. This is rock bottom.
And I truly believe that when you are at the bottom of your own self dug pit of regret, a miracle can happen.
Maybe it's not some big grand gesture. Maybe it's just a new boy in class. Or a book you find at the library. Maybe a song you heard on the radio. An accidental bumping into an old acquaintance. Miracles are everywhere. Hiding in the shadows, disguising themselves as the simple things in life that we take for granted everyday.
This is the story of my downfall.
It's not going to be pretty.
But I hope you understand that my miracle in disguise is the only reason why I'm still here today.
All because of that little red envelope.