i’ve spent my evening wrapped in a duvet cover like a burrito thinking about what it would feel like if i could lay on clouds. i’ve been thinking a lot about my life and the moments i’ve experienced and the people who have inhabited the rooms and corners of my life. thinking about all these small moments and small people wondering if i’ve ever felt anything at all. have i experienced extreme happiness and the feeling of being carefree? i’m sure i have to some degree, but i’m scared i won’t experience the level of happiness i’ve been desperately looking for lately. coming out of a dark hole you’ve spent two years in, everything seems so bright that you can’t see what life is supposed to look like just yet. i don’t think i’ve loved. i’ve thought about past relationships, past significant kisses and hugs and i don’t see love anywhere there anymore, which hurts me a lot. i desperately wanted to save too many people from where they were going. when i saved them, i thought then afterward, i could love them and love myself. i couldn’t save anyone. they all left, slowly or quickly, all in different aspects of the word. this has resulted in who i am today, broken glass trying to figure out how to become whole again. there are broken pieces inside of me, loose ends hanging from my childhood and all the secrets that I harbor in the space between my ribs. There is so much broken that I can no longer walk without leaving a bloody trail. i’m so proud of myself in the manner that i have gotten the help i needed and the lessons i desired to clean the messes i know i’ll leave behind slowly while walking throughout life, but every time i feel like i reach a milestone i seem to somehow fall. falling into something, falling out of something, always somehow falling.