I feel your pain.
I see how hard you work.
I hear your grief at fucking up again.
I understand your sadness that people you love will die.
I see your annoyance at what an asshole you can be.
I notice your overwhelming anxiety about your job.
I feel your humility about love.
I hear your sorrow that you are not good enough and might not ever be.
I feel your expectations and deepest longings. I feel those a lot.
I understand your worry that it’s not going to be okay.
I hear your fear that you are alone.
I notice your rapt attention.
I get your desire to make this place you are in better.
I smell your striving for contentment.
I see your fire.
I feel your unrelenting drive forward.
I see your chest opening wide again.
I feel your bravery.
I see you diving down deep.
It is hard. It is o’ so hard and I really feel how hard it is for you.
You are breathing underwater.
What a wonder.
You, little fishy; swim, swim, swim.
Cry and swim, punch and swim, say some swears and swim some more.
It is dangerous I know.
It is lonely I know.
It is ridiculously impossible I know.
You are so tired but keep swimming little fishy.
Swim towards the sea. Swim, swim, swim.
It is what you do.
And if you are lucky you will find a safe place to birth your dreams…
…before you die.
That’s who you are.