They say that it could all be a dream. Just breathe.
They say my disconnect to the normal scene took away my normalcy.
I've fallen into the cracks between a desire to leave and a calling to lead. Breathe.
Don't let them see.
They don't see behind the same mirror as me. Breathe. Anxiety fogging up the mirror slightly; begging it to fight me, like I don't fight it nightly, like my fingers don't grip tightly around this pen so much that it's frightening.
My mind is an aggressive typewriter that walks along a tight wire - falling in love with the nights I get to admire the view of my feet dangling over the fire. Breathe.
You are safe up here.
You could disappear and still be near to all that will forever appear to be as real as what goes on in front of your mirror.

I hope you never fear her.
Breathe.