I wake up and I’m young again. My soul aches for an old world I once occupied. One where things hurt a little less. I reach for it in my dreams and it falls through delicate hands. The same hands that once made fists to the sky. Cleaned up the damage. Built new things. The kind of things that age you, but make you somewhat stronger. What’s your definition of strength? Is it a feeling? Is it your purpose? Hurry up, we’re growing. God, how the world moves fast with no mercy- it’s proven nothing to me and that’s why I could never worship it how everyone else does. I look past the sky and remember there’s more to it all. More than yearning to feel young again. More than space between stars. There’s a place where my father lives. A place where he will feel young forever and the definition of that is endless. Wake up to something that feels like gratitude. Wake up to that feeling of feeling okay. Wake up, you’re still young. Willing and fighting and gritting your teeth through the worst parts of the story. Kiss your knuckles before you swing, but make sure you throw the first punch. Assert your dominance. Give it all you got, kid. The world is here for the taking and you’re so much more than just a part of it. Hurry up and dream so that you can wake up over and over and over again until you feel worthy. -AMT ©️