It's Okay

[Q. G. Pennyworth]

Breathe. You can't tear down the world if you stop breathing, so breathe.

You haven't won and you may never win and you aim so high you know you'll never get there and you have to stop beating yourself while you're down or you'll never get up you have to breathe.

This world will kill you, it will tear you in half and grind you to paste. Your hopes and dreams are handles sticking out of your forehead and the fates or some other assholes will use those handles to steer you like a wagon and if you give up caring about things it won't get any better and you can survive this and maybe help a little and it will hurt but you have to breathe.

There's glass in your lungs and poison in your veins and everything you love will die in the end. The sun will explode and galaxies will collide and the universe will die a slow, boring death and there's nothing to be done about the laws of physics but that is trillions of years from now and you can only do something about now and it matters, you matter, you have to breathe.

You don't have to make peace with it and you don't have to accept it and you don't have to stop being the kid who would cry at a mall opening you don't have to be perfect you can't be perfect you just have to keep trying and breathe.

I love you. Breathe.

[POFP]

Breathe. You can't tear down the world if you stop breathing, so breathe.

You haven't won and you may never win and you aim so high you know you'll never get there and you have to stop beating yourself while you're down or you'll never get up you have to breathe.

This world will kill you, it will tear you in half and grind you to paste. Your hopes and dreams are handles sticking out of your forehead and the fates or some other assholes will use those handles to steer you like a wagon and if you give up caring about things it won't get any better and you can survive this and maybe help a little and it will hurt but you have to breathe.

There's glass in your lungs and poison in your veins and everything you love will die in the end. The sun will explode and galaxies will collide and the universe will die a slow, boring death and there's nothing to be done about the laws of physics but that is trillions of years from now and you can only do something about now and it matters, you matter, you have to breathe.

You don't have to make peace with it and you don't have to accept it and you don't have to stop being the kid who would cry at a mall opening you don't have to be perfect you can't be perfect you just have to keep trying and breathe.

I love you. Breathe.

BY THE TIME I GOT TO THE END, I WAS BREATHING LIKE MICHAEL MOORE

ALSO  IT'S BEAUTIFUL.

[LMNO]

Seconded.

[POFP]

The Dreams as Handles Analogy was really quite brilliant. I think many many people need to hear that, in particular.

I think you could extend the analogy into something phallic for the perverted and poetically challenged: The Handles are many dicks jutting out of your head. Assholes and fates will yank your dicks in painful ways. Find productive people and activities that stroke your dreams and hopes.

"Mmm, yeah, you like it when I go up and down on your dreams? Yeah, let's make them all wet and shiny, that'll be nice. I like my hopes and dreams nice and big."

Also, I usually have issues remembering that "e" in "breathe" makes it brEEEth instead of breth. And now I'm sure I'll never forget it. All is well.

[Golden Applesauce]

Thank you for this.