do you remember when you were younger and watched your sister stare at the ceiling for hours with a blank expression and memories of that boy who's thumb traced a seething heart onto the back of her hand before sealing it with a kiss? or how your brother told you to go to your room as he tested the durability of his walls by punching the number of letters of that girl's name who didn't feel worthy of herself?

and now can't you remember that day you stared out of the window counting your heartbeats because you didn't want to end up like your sister and felt bile rise in your throat as you saw the bandaged knuckles of the boy you couldn't bare to burden?

because, sometimes, I'm not sure which is better; watching and wondering about the nightmare or growing from it yourself.

-Mars S.