you know, it's weird sometimes
to think of ourselves
as all separate but always as one.

we're made up of the same stuff,
the same gunk inside our lungs,
but each story remains truer to self.

i guess, i like to pretend
that i never grew up,
never relied on coffee to get out of bed.

because it's hard to see yourself dying,
from the outside, when you're trying
so hard just to lift yourself up.

but we're all a little down,
a little bruised, a little broken.
we're made up of the same **** stuff.

so as a reminder to myself and anyone else:
find people who make you smile,
make your days worth the while,
and you'll never feel unhappy again.