Sometimes, especially at night, I realize my cheeks are wet.
I don't know why I'm crying, but the world feels heavy against my chest. My heart bangs against the boney bars encaging it, each beat coming closer to breaking free of my ribs.
I want to run, but I can't escape myself. I want to fight, but I've already hurt myself. I want to hide, but I can always find myself.
So, I sit with it. I've nearly made a ritual of doing so: a formal greeting of whatever emotion this is followed by a request for a name.
I still don't have an answer.



















