There will be days where your chest will feel so heavy, and you won’t understand why,
because you can’t feel anything beating inside of it anymore–
empty.
There will be days where you feel so empty,
like you’re a paper doll, lying on the floor of a little girls room, who grew up too fast.
There will be days where you feel invisible, as if you were a shadow,
instead of a human being.
On these days, I like to pick the flowers that I know sleep inside my bones,
and I watch them.
I watch them as they grow every hour, and it reminds me that I, am a flower too. That I, am growing too.
 
On the days where my lungs refuse to work right, and I’ve forgotten their names to ask them,
to breathe,
to just breathe;
 
On days like these, I like to grasp the sky inside my chest with both hands, and pull until all the stars that I know are sleeping somewhere,
come spilling out onto my fingertips,
and light up the earth that sits beneath my feet.
 
It’s the days that I am empty, that I am the most complete,
 
It’s the days where I’m a shadow,
That I see myself the most.

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