…but i’ve fallen, i’m sorry.

a year ago, she was born from dust. forced to relive the moments as she’s hiding them away. trying to be strong under pressure, when there are those who oppose. trying to be great, when she didn’t feel great at all. and she was told, “congratulations.” “you did the right thing.” “i admire your courage.” and other awful things. and she said, “thank you.” and she said, “no thank you.” and she didn’t understand. all she knew was that she wanted to die. and that was her first battle cry.

kill me softly. i’ll inhale your smoke. pour me another one. i’ll drink that baby down. i’m not afraid of your death. i’m bored of your lies. and this is what i know to be true deep inside your cancer filled eyes: you are the wrong, but i’m not the right. we are running in the opposite directions– i guess we forgot how to fight. i wish i could remember how it felt to be safe. it’s too late.  there is no one to save me.

and she watched the ocean run over her feet. and felt the motion of the water taking her under. and she wondered. if it would save her.

and she watched the city lights burn outside at night. her eyes were blinded by the fire inside. and she gave up on her heart there. because she knew nothing would save her.

and she sat still. and contemplated her life. and found that somewhere the pain that she thought was still there. wasn’t only gone. but hadn’t been there for a lifetime. and only she could save her.

new york, la, chicago.  you know it’s all the same. there is no perfect place to run away.

because when you fall down and get up and run again– you must really want to win.

because when you fall down but get up and live again–

you must really want to live.