I just realized yesterday that admitting that I'm happy is harder than I thought. I don't EVER want to admit I'm completely happy, so when I am or I feel that I am, I don't want to say a word.
And then it leaks out, dripping from my tongue into the world.
I didn't believe the words coming from my mouth, so I let them fall as they did, allowing them to run free for the moment.
This morning, I have a bad taste in my mouth. I'm not sure why I said I was happy. I have so much to NOT be happy about. Yet, still, I can't say that I'm not happy.
I am confused. Happy and not, sure and not. The lingering admission still ringing in my ears and a whisper from my head tells me, enjoy it.
Enjoy these days, these moments, these truths, for they long to be loved and trusted and cherished.