I hit rock-bottom, and I thought I could be found. I cried, and with every tear that came from my eyes, a part of me withered.

I was afraid to wake up, look in the mirror, and see a face that was not mine, with a nonexistent smile.

And I felt death, infinite times.
The air around me felt thin, so thin it was hard to breathe.
I dedicated myself to missing you in every song, in every poem, in every writing, in every thought, every sigh, in every insomnia, all the time.

And hit rock- bottom, again and again.
Looking to get out of the boredom and deadly anxiety that caused by  missing you. Looking for Muses in the eyelashes of a garden or the howls of the midnight blue lights to not think about you, not to wish you, not to call you.
Looking in some way to find rest and be me again ... and so, not to be so broken.