The price of opening your eyes is a hefty one. You want to close them. You need to close them for your own well-being. But you fight, and fight, and push your boundaries.

Sometimes the world slams those eyes shut, and you’re left to the screaming void. Even then, the warmth of those who care? It shatters like a papier mâché imitation of dust on your shoulder. What is a caress, but the wind? What is a smile, but a far-off whisper? These tidings bid us unwell, and we drown in that darkness.

Where in that darkness do we find light? Where in those depths do we find home? Sometimes all we find in that solitude is the silence. In the silence, we must fight still. It is a fight to make this silence peace, and banish our madness. It is a fight for your very sense of self.

If any man or woman may find themselves in this darkness, let it be not by their failures. Let it be for their sanctuary; a respite of dire necessity. For you are worthy. That sacred “you” that you hold between your grey folds. That unyielding “you” that you wield in the storm, to ravish your ill memories for a brighter day. This tried and true “you” is the only one I know. It is not the only one I will call my friend in your most mortal form. You are “you”, and that is a beautiful thing.