joy

sometimes I fear I’ll never learn how to truly handle the joy

maybe the mop

maybe the mop? there’s soot everywhere it’s under my nails and under my soul where I shoved that self I swore to punish

don't you see: there's enough alienation in the world as is - we don't need yours too

me, myself, and I

what do I feel?

The worst loss you’ll ever experience is always your own.

I resent how safe my self isolation makes me feel and yet how it also makes me sick.

maybe it won't swallow me, my grief, or maybe it will.

I struggle sometimes to know what is neurotic and what is normal

digest it digest your disappointment don't let it sit.