I’m leaving my house again- forget to tell my friends. I’m drinking too much in an empty parking lot. Roaming the town like a ghost who can’t leave. I feel like going to a place that feels like forever, but I just can’t find it. My thoughts are being dragged down the highway- catch them if you can. Pick them up. Hold them close and see them for what they are. Take my anxiety medicine and tell me I’m okay I’m well I’m fine after everything that happened. But I’m not sure why I close my eyes and hate the things I see. I’m leaving my house again- forget to tell all my friends. Don’t be afraid. Stop worrying. It does nothing for me- just draws me farther away and away and away I go when the blood in my veins turns sour. I’m just seeing how far I can sink without drowning. It’s a beautiful act of trying to forget. You’d do the same, I think. You’d lean in and out of whatever helps and hurts and heals. You’d wait to see what it makes of you after the worst parts crashed through the ceiling and buried part of you that will never work the same. Say hello and goodbye all at once because sometimes it means the same exact thing. I’m leaving my house again- forget to tell my friends.