I will always be this passionate about people, of sunlight, of a warm cup of coffee, the little things that often go unnoticed. the overwhelm of life will always come for me, the overwhelm of feeling will always stop me dead in my tracks.
grief is a natural disaster, joy belongs on cloud nine, anger takes form in violent hysteria, love feels like skydiving with a faulty parachute. it never mattered to me if the glass was half empty or half full, all I could ever take into account was a glass worth of emotions that never stopped spilling over.
I swing between the pendulum of it being too empty, and often too full. my heart sets off fireworks, I’m accustomed to have to feel in order to feel alive. so it I suppose it makes sense if having nothing happening out of an adamant routine would so easily convince me why I am having such a hard time staying alive.
that’s it, when you feel like I feel — you need emotion to remind yourself why you’re a human being. I was stuck in such a remote and isolated void that I forgot what being alive felt like.

I find the irony of human biology is that we are taught the ribcage protects our heart from physical harm, and the irony of human psychology is trying to understand what plays a role in emotional harm — yet seldom how to protect ourselves from it.

how do you do that?
break and mend me all the same.
make me cry and laugh at the same time.
I should’ve known this was a double-edged sword since the beginning, I should’ve been able to tell how much this could ruin me and move me all the same.
before all of this, warning signs were merely a disguise of false alarms. I should’ve run when I had the chance. I shouldn’t have knotted any of my strings with yours, for they are now such a struggle to pull apart.
I should’ve, I should’ve.
what am I still doing in your arms, if I should’ve?