On those days when your ghosts visit you before witching hour, wrapping their familiar fingers around your throat, remember: it's okay to relapse.
As they shove their fingers down your throat, you'll find it hard to breath and even harder to try and think.
Because the dead will force you to remember all the anxieties that you grew out of, all the tendencies that they inspired in you that ranged from suicidal to only worrying too much.
And I'm sorry to say it, but eventually you will ***** up every single butterfly they ever gave you, along with the fond memories you tried to keep for a rainy day.
You're going to make one hell of a mess all over the present and the immediate future, and your ghosts will make sure you can't do anything else until you break down in defeat and beg for their mercy and forgiveness.
And you won't be granted either of those things, but they will eventually leave for purgatory again and you will be able to think again and remember that it's okay to relapse because your past will always be a part of you.
Written early 2014, and still a good part of my struggle with my identity.