I just want to hold everyone so tight that all the broken pieces come back together, held by my quiet love for all people who fought their demons and survived.

But I can't catch myself. I can't hold every broken person in the world in my arms, and each one flays my skin with those shattered edges. I cannot keep myself together and I cannot hold your dreams up because my never-really-dreams are crushing me as it is. I cannot help you. I've given my blood and air and skin and every beat of my heart to someone who couldn't survive. And now they're living in my rib cage and the quiet parts of my head, and I don't know if I like it or not.