Find the humor in your misery. Spend time searching for laughter because the heart is in pain. The intentions to absorb joy, some cheer, the roar felt all around—as if it’s contagious. Sweet Serotonin. These out of body feelings provide the ability to see the hollow felt inside.

Rainstorms start crowding the mind. Feel the drops bounce off the lips and allow it to blend with the streams pouring from the eyes. Transforming to hurricanes–thrashing at whatever is in their way, absolute destruction. Rebuilding what used to exist, but it’s never the same: It’s a temporary front until the next tragic storm. Let it wash away the facade.

The strongest magnet exists beneath the bed, forcing the subject to stay. Stripped the sheets and changed them. It makes no difference; the discomfort remains. Play the music so the heart has a beat to follow. Inhale to feel breaths; exhale to feel less. Desperate drowsiness to escape reality.

…

Writing to drown the feelings away, but it would be a lie to say it heals. It doesn’t. There’s a plant rooted deep within, that of which grows uncontrollably as time passes. Maintenance helps keep it tolerable; provides the opportunity to be presentable. Showcased. It’s unruly though, the way it grows, unexpected and wild. Watching as it spreads. Developing far past control.

Solitude.