It Is Hard. Poem by Kira Travis

It is hard.

Life is easy.

Death is easy.

Dealing with all the emotions,
the aftermath of our actions, and
even just ourselves that is hard.

My ground is shaking
on a constant level
that makes it seem as though
the next thing I touch or brush
against in passing
will be a jolt of electricity that
is shockingly uncomfortable and
troubling or just hurts.

The anxieties of being surrounded
by all the people I love, like, hate, admire, and
just know will be there even when you want,
you want them there, but at the same time
it is like you are in a room
filled with people and you
can't breathe because
your scared
that even though
you know they won't harm you
in any way but you can't help
just feel uneasy no matter what you
or someone does to help.

It is hard.

The moment you find your ground steady
everything goes awry and
chaos assumes the mantel
while steady peace takes
a nap for the century or
day.

To live is to die.

To die is to live as well.

I never thought for a second
it was different and I
still will not think it's
different than anything else.