Every now and then something scratches the scars and reminds you of how low you can fall, what agony and emptiness really mean. 

It’s all so small now in the light of my fire- half vigil half funeral pyre. I’m finding my way back home and it’s all so small, the obstacles and bodies I’ve tripped over, clung to, static and stalling, stagnating. I died a long time ago, just forgot to lay down- I guess I’m lucky the breakdown was so thorough or I might not have a home to return to. I know I’ve outgrown you but this shell is all that’s left right now. I’m sorry I’m so clumsy, I’ve lived in this halfway hell so long I forgot how to human with any skill. 

Still burning and this time I’m not hiding. 

Still, always on fire. The rats in the burning room of my skull still panic, still send me careening off the walls looking for a way out, the space to breathe, be a better me before the damage is permanent. God I’m trying. My little loves I’m trying. I’m coming home to you. I’m coming for you and I’ll never stop evolving to show you how to grow.

I burned the altars to all those old gods and I’m rebuilding my faith from the ground up, I hope you get to see the light like I do, like I’m learning to. Learning to lower your shoulder and become unstoppable. Become relentless, because sometimes just breathing is a victory and I’m going to show you.