And I present to you another poem.

Some days, I'm a bard:
Wandering from town to town,
Telling my stories to peasants
gathered around red hearths,
Making friends and then
Leaving them behind.

Some days, I'm a princess:
Locked in a tower,
Gazing out on the land,
Filling my thoughts with
Mundane visions.

Some days, I dream dreams:
Of earth; and of heaven;
Of courage; of honor; of
Strength through it all.

Some days, I'm a queen:
Holding court in her palace,
Deigning to hear the
Pleas of her subjects.

Some days, I"m a selki:
Working obediently
For the one who
Denies me my skin.

Some days, I'm a spy
And a sneak and a cheat
And a thief, stealing away
With my hard-earned reward.

Some days, I'm a murderer,
slaying, brutally, my own
Hopes and dreams,
Aspirations and thoughts.

Some days, I'm all of these things.

But today, I am I.
I have no blood on my hands,
No stories to tell,
No dreams to dream.

Today, I exist.
And that is enough.

This piece of art was written by my friend-in-real-life, Sabam, who blogs over at It's Raining. I don't often read her blog, actually, because we try to catch up in person instead. But I was going through SB withdrawel, so I found myself browsing through her blog archives. Yes, relapse. It happens.

SB, this poem encapsulates my life right now. In the middle of a double tragedy, I find that it is impossible for me to emote, that all I have been capable of these past two weeks is being, existing. I didn't know that I could be like this. Every person should read this.