No one is truly 'sane' until they've experienced the opposite. If you've embraced loneliness in the past, you may fear it in the present and fight it in the future.

I'm thankful for my tipsy sanity—a flimsy lense prone to scratches but void of shattering in its malleable frame. I twist and knot beyond common lace; my hands become dexterous in undoing my wrongs until I tear my cord and, consequently, from my eyes.

All in all, sanity is unstable, leaving humanity unpredictable (to an extent)—it's a beautiful thing. I hold three handfuls of regrets in one hand, while my other hangs (again) void of life and purpose; "supply it with some". Good thing I can juggle.

I miss you so much.