We hold onto things even when they’re long gone,
We hold onto the familiarity because we do not want to go through a grieving process,
We do not want to cry, alone,
So we will latch onto every hymn and memory possible just to feel nostalgic and sorry for ourselves, and we will cry, even long after the grieving process has passed

I carry crystals around my neck and in my pockets when I walk because often I talk to myself and often I talk to the dead,
Often I am so confused that I do not know the difference between the two,
But I like that,
It leaves a sense of mystery to everything my mind has already planned out for me

I want to know where we all were when the world ended,
Who were we with, what were we doing, and were our hearts as full as they could be,
I stay up late at night sometimes and I just sing as loud and as long as I can, hoping that maybe possibly whatever creator is awake will hear me and keep me company, and not care who’s side I’m on,
I just want to be able to feel something for free

I do not want to keep sacrificing myself for heartbreak, and I wish I was ignorant to everything, I just want to know what it feels like to not know any better, about anything

I write these because I am hurting and I have yet to find a solution, and I am too broke for therapy, but I promise you I would pay dearly