I have been jumpy lately. And butterflies are eating the insides of my ribcage. These old panics are getting real tiresome. I wish I could just know what I was looking for. Know what I wanted to say. I have this terrible desire to be loved by every person I meet. Like it will make up for something I am lacking. So if you see me... I will smile harder than I really want to, and try so hard to make you laugh. Just give me a hug. Tell me monsters aren't real and that I too am able to be loved. I exist in your reality as well as my own. I wish I had Joanna Solfrian's words:

Sometimes a Gray Mood Comes

Sometimes a gray mood comes

an elected valley in the heart

a flock of clouds-

it is then that the woman

walks very far to find warm weather,

a simple horizon with a sea,

a boat, and a shore that is long.

There is a man waiting

with flowers at the bedside.

Sometimes she returns,

sometimes he must go find her.

The sea, the boat, the shore-

these things know where she is-

as does the presence of death in every lily,

which is not the whole of the lily,

but something of it.