My feet are tired but my heart is beating and bright and full and it will carry me for as long as I will it.

Sometimes you must sharpen your needles and swallow your tongue and sew those holes up so you can't crawl into them and hide any longer, trying to hurt yourself inside of them. I found the way out and I've blocked it off until it explodes open again. And I'll keep running to the light, wherever it goes, however dim it becomes.

I want to see. Peel back my eyelids. Inflate my crushed lungs, free me from the debris my hands make. If we create our own misery, we can kill it just as easily.