The brain and the heart are 73% water.
The lungs are 83.
What we think, what we feel are fluid. Rippling.
The same thing that pumps our chest steals our air.
We are capable of anything.
The human body is made of the same matter
That nurtures life.
That crushes cities.
We are capable.
What kind of storm are you?
This is not for others.
This is not to keep them comfortable.
This is for you.
Your heat is how you know you’re alive.
I wish I could say things will be different now, but I’m impatient. I want what I want and it’s not easy. It takes all of me. I’ve sat two decades under damp soil. I’m impatient.
You should have more by now. Have more and want less. Want normal. Want peace. Keep still and learn to float. Make them proud. The ones that are here and the ones that you’ve lost. You’re learning to manage. You’ve fallen apart.
And you’ve built worlds. And you’ve lost hope. And you’ve spoken things to life, and you’ve laid a lot to rest. Are you smarter now? What have you learned? Have you learned?
Love when you feel it so you don’t regret it again. Let him go. Love. Love what you do, love who you’ve been. Remember that you’re alive and that’s something.
Are you different now? Do you feel any different?
Do you remember when it became too much? When you sat across from me and I told you I had welded a key meant for unlocking worlds. I told you there was a place for you. That it was built for you. But not just you, and not just me. It was bigger. Do you remember?
And your hands began to melt all over the table. You reached for your glass but it slid right through. I cut my finger picking up the pieces. You lost your nerve trying to put it back together.
I shouldn’t have to apologize for starting a fire. We’re just atoms, we’re supposed to change state in heat. Vibrate faster, expand, become air. You’re going against your nature.
I can’t wait for you to grow.