Sometimes.

Sometimes the river carries you gently, rocking you like a child. Sometimes it throws you into whirlpools that spin until you forget which way is up. Sometimes the waters are glass, reflecting the sky so faithfully you forget where the air ends and the body begins.

Sometimes you float, sun-warmed and golden. Sometimes you are dragged under, reaching for a light you can’t yet see. Sometimes it feels like salvation, sometimes it feels like ruin. Sometimes it’s both.

Sometimes the night stretches long and merciful, stars keeping watch while the world sleeps. Sometimes the night is cruel and sleepless, each hour widening a wound. Sometimes the sun blazes, sometimes the moon whispers.

Sometimes joy bursts like laughter you can’t hold in. Sometimes sorrow pools like ink, staining everything it touches. Sometimes love arrives as a homecoming, sometimes as a storm. Sometimes it heals, sometimes it breaks, sometimes it does both in one breath.

Sometimes life feels like a blink, gone too soon. Sometimes it sprawls, endless, like a desert you must cross on foot. Sometimes the problems are so tangled you know a thousand years wouldn’t be enough to solve them. Sometimes they dissolve on their own, like salt in water.

And through it all—through the glassy mornings and the nights that will not end, through laughter and tears, through beauty and breaking—there is always, always, you.