I am not an artist but art,
and from the world-- set apart;
in life and love, the push and shove
wreaks havoc on my painted heart.

If you just ask me to out my blades on your nightstand while casually checking your email on your iPhone, it won't happen.

If you offhandedly remind me to eat while heading out the door for a few hours, it won't happen.

And if you tell me living is worth it while slapping me in the face with a ton of mistrust and coldness, it won't happen.

Trust me.

White fences, blue skies,
and laughs.

So many laughs.

Popcorn, angels,
and Korean.

So much Korean.

They say living in the past can destroy you, that dwelling on what you've lost can shred your very being.

But what if it's a good past?

We learn from history so that it doesn't repeat itself.
But we also learn how to relive the good moments.

There is no poison anymore.
Past thoughts, past dreams, past hopes,
key word; past.
It has drained into everyone- you have seen this- and it has destroyed more than is healthy. None is healthy. Unfortunately, that is not the case, not even close.
But now the toil is over.

You can only push so much out, can only drown so much.
You're tired, I can feel it.
You're weary, I can see it.
Memories strain against the metal bars guarding your heart and your head

Opening broken boxes of leering letters can **** the heart. I know.
Unearthing memories you'd tried to shatter can **** you.

But better than blocking comes redemption,
albeit harder and a longer process.

But being a whole puzzle means fitting the pieces together,
not throwing away those you wish you hadn't touched.

There are those who wish to build you up, those who wish to beam you into the high place you used to inhabit.

And you know what?

They all miss you.

We are not always.

We are not forever.

We are not okay.

We are not fine.

We are human.

Always, because we cannot change our makeup.

Forever, because we cannot alter our DNA.

Okay, because we tend to drown ourselves a little.

Fine, because we have to make it through somehow.

Human, because that's how we were made.

And perfect, because we are made of imperfections.