The glass I hold is pretty and deep The liquid inside is refreshing and cool It feeds my soul, my spirit to keep It's half empty, but really half full I gaze inside the glass I hold it makes me smile, it makes me bold See, I look forward to tasting the rest The part that's gone wasn't even the best But what's to come, the fate that we make Is what I look for With a smile on my face.
I like this. You know, I was in the hospital a while ago for depression, and the therapists kept "Is your glass half empty or half full?" They got down to brass tacks pretty quickly. I have always seen it as half full. I will always remember that.
Me, too. I learned it in, "group," when I had a short stay in a hospital for manic depression and Meniers meltdown. I like you, too. I can definitely relate.
