But I've always got to hunt for the good amongst the bad. When the walls are closing in and breathing comes difficult, I must fumble for the strings to pull a smile on my face. If I ever were to give up the search, I'd be finished. The hunt shall go on.
The next time I'm almost broken, heaving by the light of the window, I'll hunt for hope. When I'm lying flat beneath the hospital's dotted ceiling tiles (sixty-six holes per square) and fluorescent lights, I'll hunt for my dreams, plans, and goals. Just like looking for berries in our backyard jungle. Simple as that.