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"Some people's lives seem to flow in a narrative; mine had many stops and starts. That's what trauma does. It interrupts the plot . . . it just happens, and then life goes on. No one prepares you for it. 

"I leave claw marks in everything I touch. But I would sooner gnaw off my own leg than admit that I just want someone to stay for once.

"I don't want my life to be a perpetual loop of trying to recover from something after something and someone after someone. 

I don't want recovery to be all that I am.

"All my grief says the same thing; this isn't how it's supposed to be. And the world laughs, holds my hope by my throat, says: but this is how it is."

existing with melancholy

I am sad, all the time. 

Even when I am happy. 

There is a pit in my chest. 

Everything I do is enrobed in grief. 

My mom is gone. 

And that is in everything I do. 

My dad is gone. 

And that is in everything I do. 

I have lost these parts of me that I will never get back. 

A vital, intricate part of me. 

Is gone. 

I am seeing the world through the distorted lenses of grief. 

losing where i came from

This feeling

It yawns and swallows me whole.

No matter how much I claw at the the warmth, it will slip through my fingers like sand. 

Hopeless.

I look around. Where do I go? I can't, I just

It's gone. It's all gone. 

I am alone. 

Truly, utterly alone. 

I want to go home. But home is gone. She's gone. 

God, I just want to be home.