As I sit down, by the fireplace, I watch the last embers burn. I was feeling weird, not happy or sad, not on a scale from those two, but somewhere off on the y-axis. The fire slowly died out, the flame giving off small bursts of brilliance, as it did. Why am I here? Is there a reason? I feel like there is, I know there is, but what? The flame soon died out, the red hot coals are the only memory left. I know I'll be fine, I'll figure out who I am someday. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next month, but someday.

 

I will be ok.