I’m getting lost in the tunnels of my mind again. It happens when my subconscious has something to say. Its voice grows like thunder and even though it shakes, it’s heard.

It reminds me of everything the world is not. Tells me how breathing feels like a fucking chore so I better clean up the mess. I think back to how the end of summer used to taste bitter- how the dread would overcome me for days.

Now I don’t taste anything at all. But the dread is constant- it somehow feels like home. There’s some sort of safety in the sadness- the parts we don’t want to admit. And maybe I’m here for the taking. My brain tells my heart to do better and it beats promptly. Beckons it’s call like a sinner waiting to be forgiven.

I’m not myself and everyone can see it in the delayed laughter- the pause in between sentences- the silence that grows in my chest to make room for a heart that beets too quickly. It’s all about learning when to lean in and pull back, and I’ve never been too good at balancing. So if I can show myself any form of gentleness, I will need to practice. I’m starting to breath slower. I’m letting my bones settle for the first time in a long time. I’m writing love notes to myself in brail so that I can learn what kindness feels like AMT