i can’t help but shake the feeling that there’s something more. and those of us who go mad are the ones who look again and again in the wrong places. and never find it.
i know that it isn’t here. through these screens. through waxing poetic and fighting off the autumn. biting my nails and ruminating in all of my past mistakes that i’ve never even considered forgiving myself for.
the most secure attachment i’ve ever had is to my own suffering. and if i relinquished that, even for a second, there is too much of me that fears it will no longer exist. will never have existed.
and that is a fate more comprehensive than death.
but it’s also the only place worth visiting.