I never got to experience what it felt like to go underneath the colorful parachute they used to have in P.E
I don’t think it was personal, or maybe it was, but it still hurts the same.
I mourn for my younger self who was upset, but I want to sob.
I see everyone reminiscing about how magical it was and how it was a core part of their childhood, how they wish to go back to that time.
I hope I never meet my younger self, I could never comfort them the way they needed, nobody could.
When I think back about the rainbow parachute I get a pit feeling in my stomach, that I may never experience it the way others did, or maybe never will. Now nostalgia makes me feel sick.

The truth is, I am due a harsh lesson. In truth itself and how bitter it can be. The truth is, I am ugly, I am inadequate, I am lost. I am no god. The truth is, I want, to want, to live. And so do you. I just can’t do this any longer. I am afraid. Are you afraid? I want to understand what it is to let go. So for now let me serve as a living drama of your pain. If we are to be submerged let us be submerged together.

they tell me to find the light
like its a journey to find
a distance to go
a place to encounter
if that's the case
i have already made a home in the dark

a home made out of your lies
your screams and our fights
stacked them up like stone in wood
you wouldn't live in this home if you could

the dark can be a beautiful place
if you're wise enough to open your eyes
they've mistaken their blindness for the night