I am Trying

If I were someone who used profanity on a regular basis, I believe I would be cursing at least twelve times a day. Yes. Twelve. Twelve seems to be the average number of times my strength is tested throughout the day. Not my patience, not my physical prowess, not my intelligence, but simply the strength I possess that keeps me from breaking into tears.
There are these things, these reminders, these coincidences, that pop up and make me stumble for a minute, make me hesitate as I collect myself and refuse to give in to the pain that threatens to push through. And logic and experience and my bustling brain tell me to be past this already, this threat of emotion, to be further along than I am, to think about the present. But gosh darn it I am in the present and guess what the present can hurt just as much as the past and when you compound the two together it is not always easy to hold it together!
And why do I have so many memories from such a short period in my life? And why am I allowing my feelings to be so tender over stupid and unimportant occurrences? And why do I remember my dreams so vividly? And why the heck did I take so many pictures and print so many pictures and stash so many pictures around my room so that when I open my desk looking for an envelope I come across two photos from one year ago and feel the burn behind the eyes?
I am a strong girl, I am. And I will be even stronger in a few months. And it's fine. I'm fine. But I am still sad sometimes.