Some days I go from top speed to a dead halt in the same amount of time it takes to unlock a door or flip a light switch.

And when I'm standing still, it's hard not to feel like everything around me is crashing down and shattering. And it's loud. It's in my face. Etched onto my skin. Burned into my memory.

But somehow, I'm still here. After the thundering collision and the screeching of tires. I'm still here. In the middle of the crossroads. Still breathing. Still standing. Still here.

Because there are a few strings keeping me from crumbling. And here and there an iron rod that will not let me fall. Small truths and sentiments that shout louder and whisper sweeter than any of my thoughts ever could:

"someone cares" "you matter to me"

"don't walk alone" "careful" "would you like a hand?" "how was your day?" "you're smart too" "I like your face"

It brings me back. Back to that crossroads: my past behind me. A vast future ahead. Calling, beckoning the same way you do with that smile on your lips, your hand outstretched. And even in my clumsy fingers I will grasp it.

And follow.

From 0 to 5, to 10. To 20. To 30. To 40.

Slowly propelled forward yet again, out of the darkness my mind pulls up and around my shoulders like a shroud. Out of the ******* currents that pull me down. Out of the shadows where my bones grow cold.

Into the light and glow of countless stars. Each perfect, each warm. Each far away and watching from their perch upon your shoulders, your arms, your cheeks. Each inviting in the way a warm bed calls on rainy days.

Let me follow. Let me fall. Let me sink into your embrace and tell you how afraid I was today. Let me bare my soul, and make me strong. So that one day. If you should hear the collision and smell the smoke, I will be there to lift you out of the wreckage and hold you to my chest. The way you do now.

That one day I won't need saving from myself. But love fearlessly instead.