#riokshte

dark dreams in the kitchen. -- maybe when you cry, sometimes every drop is like letting go of something that was tormenting you inside. Plip, plop, 2 drops. 2 different memories, 2 different points in your life you mourned, for someone else or (sometimes what I find almost unexplainable)- for yourself. In the mornings, standing up from your bed, you’re rising from the grave you made for yourself last night. Maybe sometime, somewhere in the middle of your dreams, you got lost and died. Maybe you couldn’t fight all of your demons this time. In this battle, day by day. And life is one huge ongoing war sometimes with moments of truces, treaties, or cold stand offs. Maybe the reason you meet some people inside the storm is because you need those certain kinds of people. Maybe it takes those certain kinds of people to help you, to heal you, to bring you back again. When you’re hurting in some places and you think that it’s ok, and it’s something you think you could live with but then someone or a lot of people come along and say no..no… let me help you pick the pieces back up again. Let me help you so you can find out what made those cracks or those deep crevices that leak so strongly with the scent of a broken heart or the song of a spirit that writhes occasionally in detriment. And then their words of encouragement, support, (even love, most of all: love) are a soothing balm upon your soul. Then you take off your clothes, peel off the layers that burdened your shoulders. And you put on something much lighter.