never did i think it possible that my purpose would appear before me

a blank slate, waiting to be chalked on, erased, and chalked on again

My will pulled me out, grasped my hand, and squeezed...

There I was, standing on top.

 

but under i went again. I went under so bad, and so deep that I had to

write this.

I had to drown in the weight of my tears

to learn how to pick myself up...

 

I'm sick, and disgusting, and naiive, and stupid and grotesque and horrendous.

I'm mad and sad and completely scared.

I'm all of that because fear consumes me.

 

I had no more excuses left;

My bags were empty, and my pockets were cleaned out.

Yet, I still write this, I don't know how.