Erin

Time hurts and time heals so let it be both a testament and a haven.

If he’s lost in someone’s eyes

the way he was in mine

tell him that I think it’s fine

that I’m fine. 

You told me my brain was beautiful And that madness was a virtue But if you dissect each day and live in last week Those thoughts will always hurt you

You choose to sink?

Then sink.

Just know that it’s an even lonelier world at the bottom, settling in a distorted place where both light and sound fail to reach. As do other lost items, you, too, will eventually become part of the swampy bed in which you lay. 

A life submerged is not one of temporary relief. It is not one of clarity or comfort or convalescence. It is not one of length. 

Muster up the will to flutter your legs and raise your arms - not in surrender, but with reborn purpose. Resurrect the life that’s been hiding in the shadows of your bones for one last dance. 

You choose to sink?

Then sink. 

Just know that I’ll be at the surface with outstretched arms, prepared and longing for the chance to pull you up.  

As much as I’d like to, it is not in my power to make such a decision for you. Listen to the voice whispering in your ear, though it may be muffled, fragile, and discreet.

Swim.

I pray to God that you swim.    

December 4th, 2015

The numbness will subside. Your heart and mind will eventually thaw.

and I see you everywhere -