Past looking outside, telling yourself their lives look better when you're looking in from windows they created, remembering when you had something like they had and were unhappy, because it wasn't your life you were living, and if you had what they had, you won't be happy as they are, because happiness can only be found when you live a life you wanted to create.
Past looking inside, cradling your wounds, so that rather than healing, they stay healthy and fresh and bleed, and past learning that wounds heal better when you run against the wind, and that scabs go away eventually.
You're in the middle of inside and outside, the rubbery fiber holding together muscle and bone, allowing movement and creating purpose. You're about to create a life you can be happy to live. You're creating yourself, as who you will become to the world and to memory, you're molding something that is real, and tangible in nature, something that creates mountains and not something that just fills up empty holes in the plain of your life. Something that creates texture in your world, so that when you touch the globes made in your life's image, you feel under your fingers, a terrain that's unique, and although the bumps are sometimes created by the wounds turning into scars themselves, something yours.
Past thinking, past contemplating. Past hesitating and comparing.
Now, where to start?