NaPoWriMo 4

I'm buckling down for the long haul laying in the supplies again measuring my life by how much there may be left to live, how many more times I might see the daffodils the buds, the weak green of early spring.

People are rivers

(Although the end of that last quote is a tough one for someone with a mental illness - it's impossible for me to smile and be carefree sometimes and I try not to blame myself/beat myself up for not being able to while still striving to smile & be carefree. It's complicated.)