Drape my hands over the marble of a statue of a saint. Let me soak in holy water. I’m so far from feeling holy but at least I can try. I remember these things once feeling complete- but now I’m piecing together fragments of broken marble wondering how a sturdy structure managed to shatter. I fall back into myself like a hollow frame and sometimes it feels like I never left it. My mind is filled with ghosts. I’m haunting my own self. Trying to remember the names of all the saints because they had to have once felt like this too. Scary stories aren’t just stories and I’m living proof. Take the pieces that I can carry and find the strength to drag them behind me. Leave with nothing unmarked, hoping it’ll haunt me less. Start over and over and over again- until I feel worthy of it.