The cavity left in my chest when I stopped believing in love has become haunted by the feeling of being alone. I've been dressing like a funeral and I've been thinking of you often and the bed that I've been sleeping in is feeling smaller every night. I've been filing voids with a fascination in the pain of my friends, but it just adds on to mine, it just keeps me afraid. I want to test the boundaries of humanity, I want to memorize your scars, I want to know that I'm not the only one who owns a haunted frame, who has a pressure on their skull and thinks of death often. I think I'm going crazy, but I don't hear any voices, I just love seeing others hurt and knowing I'm not alone. I just love seeing scars and knowing they're okay to wear. Or at least they seem okay. Or at least they seem expected. I want to know all of your fears, what you think of at night, I want to keep you safe from yourself, hide you closely in my arms, I think that if you clear out all of the smoke and you look with sore eyes, everyone's fears are the same. Because nobody wants to die. At least not inherently, at least not at first, because we both know there was a time, a moment where everything stopped being all right, and you kept distance from mirrors, you stopped flashing a smile, and you started thinking, maybe, "I'm not strong enough to fight". So you can divide the world in two. You can narrow fear down, because there are people afraid of death, and there are people afraid to live. And I'm fascinated by the moment, or maybe the collapse over time, when the human mind switches from smiling to "I'm fine".  I wonder often if I'm the only one who finds beauty in sadness, and if I am, I'm sorry for calling you pretty when you cry.

And if I am, I'm sorry for wasting your life living time.