I often ponder why devastation is easier for me to write about than happiness; when I've had two parents and a brother who I'm certain that loves me. When I've had a house, an education, and food, and all the rest that most don't have. So why is it, that I cannot summon the brightness when I want to speak of it? There is this unbearable weight on my heart that never falters, and so I falter. I lift my head, banging it against my own rib cage. I've been confined into my own being for so long, that I forgot about the light that never gets in.