Shaking in anticipation over the empty calm that always comes after. Anxiety overtakes me again.
Engulfing my mind in a dark starry shroud squeezing my throat, something I can't get away from without the
state of mind that's always too far out of reach.
When there's two paths to take, my subconscious chooses for me. Rebelling against my want to sit and stare at nothing
until this restlessness ceases to exist.
As I breathe, I hope....
Hope always comes after the torment, after there's no reason to hope. No light, no hope, resisting against.
The one who held me through it all,
they were the drug to the pain,
that no one else could cure.
Since they've left, I've had to heal myself, calm myself, into nothing.