my mind feels cluttered with everyone else's thoughts; tumbling and colliding with each other as my thoughts struggle to swim to the surface. a sadness creeps up under the confusion of my logic, like a spider crawling under a rock. it slows my physical motions, blankets my perspectives in meloncholy. living with an inevitable doom that only i seem to care about yet he knows is a reality makes my heart heavy and my eyes loose that much more of their sparkle. hope like slivers of light on a stream float by, beautiful and fleeting, i watch the ribbons float downstream, cherish the memories they brought when they were still a possiblity. at times i reach out to try and touch one, outstreching my hand into the freezing water only to feel the shimmering strands slip through my grasp effortlessly. as this occurs, i do not feel remorse or desperation, but instead of sense of calm reflection as i understand that what is mine never really leaves, only floats further down. the sadness i feel stems from others not understanding their place in the river, the place of their hopes and dreams; that the beauty of those sparkling slivers of light are theirs to hold onto forever, and the beauty lies forever in what can be, not what is. what is is the beauty of the river, which makes what could be-the ribbons of hope-possible.