I am asleep and in my dream

my nose starts to drip blood

'This is familiar,' I think, 'I know what to do.'

I pinch my nose and tilt my head forward, well-practiced

I am calm, I am unbothered

even as the blood starts to drain down my throat and into my mouth

It begins to clump and clot in my mouth

(uncomfortable, but not unfamiliar)

which opens to let the blood spill out

A steady flow of red, a stream starting to form: I am the font

The people around me start to worry, and then fill with fear

Some come to me, hand on my shoulder, saying words I do not hear

There is a contrast in the warmth of their hand and the wet warmth of blood on my chest

Others try to leave, others point and stare and talk

I do not hear these either, but I know the meaning

This disgust, the distraught, the detestation- it is all rejection

I wake up and my shirt is not blood-soaked

I do not see a path of blood reaching out to others

I go to the bathroom, and find blood-soaked cloth all the same

'This is familiar,' I think, 'I know what to do.'

I'm sorry I'm not brave enough.

I have begun to open my eyes, but it's not enough.

I know I need to do more, my thoughts are not enough.

But I don't know what to do!

I don't know how to get rid of

fear that's been haunting me for years.

Of the guilt that comes along with it.

I'm trying. To be enough.

For you.

You the individual.

You the people.

You in the mirror.

Every day is a shift towards being

enough.

I am so tired. A friend recently told me to cry, like that would help. I had already cried. Time passed and more grief, for an entirely different reason. Now I am so very tired. Crying has made me so exhausted. They encourage my vulnerability. Sometimes I wish to be left alone, wish to be less vulnerable, but with a shared grief.... it is understandable if they wish to care for me, as a way to cope themselves. So I will cry openly. I will be tired. I will sleep. I will continue. Everything will be alright.

I hope you know darling,

I'll watch from afar, my little star.

I love you.

There is a stillness in a glass lake. There is a calm, clear image, which is shattered by a thought, like a rock through a window. Those who know clarity, who can maintain it, are treasured. Much like a florist arranges flowers one must arrange their thoughts. Yet thoughts are quick to bubble up and disturb the perfect reflections. There are miles to travel before one knows the path to take. The path that leads to understanding the world around you. Walking this path can take a person different university of thought. How one organizes their thoughts depends on what they learn. May you find a way that doesn't warp your perspective of the world.

Parched,

dry, dull

empty echoes

(exhausted, staring, aching, tired)

then, the relief of rain,

soaking the water up desperately.

Singing,

the sun shines with not the intense heat that burns,

but the warmth that encourages life.

sounds fill the heart, mind,

the body is refreshed, filled with energy, movement

(excited, searching, buzzing, awake)

It's a question I've asked myself.

It's a question you should ask yourself too.

I love my family.

I love my friends.

yet

I can't seem to find the romantic love other people do.

I don't try, because why persue what I haven't even had a hint of feeling?

but I'd like to.