This will probably be incoherent.

I am a constant battle between excess and shortfall.  I'm hoping the shortfall will win because it seems like it's for the best.  I'll misjudge the steps and trip up and learn for later.
Stairs are dangerous things.

I know you like the back of my hand but I want to know you like my handwriting.  I know how that works, what it looks like in detail.  And then I can write you down on fresh white pages and have you to keep and look at and wonder over.  And I can keep you in a notebook by my bed, just so you'll be close.

Maps.

So there's this girl I know and she's scared to death of everything.  Well, most things at least.  But there are two things she's scared of more than anything else.  One is getting lost.  The other's being found.

She's been given this map.  It's like an old pirate map and confusing as heck.  She doesn't know where she's going but she's trying to work out which way to go anyway.  And there are these people constantly giving advice, but none of them can agree and she's getting drowned by their voices.  She doesn't want to end up nowhere, at least not alone.

She doesn't want to be found because she knows people will be disappointed by what they find.  And she doesn't want anyone too close either.  Not so much because she's scared of getting hurt, she's been hurt before, it's okay, but because she's scared of hurting other people.  It's the guilt she can't stand.  She knows she'll screw it up.  And she'll leave you more broken than you were before.

It's not that she doesn't care.  She cares so much that she cries herself to sleep at night.  She's only living for others these days.  But if you knew she cared then it would all go wrong.

Stick a pin in your map and get as far away from her as you can.

"Without you, I'm just me."

All together, falling apart.
The knots we tied in the ropes above our heads to keep us standing are coming loose.
The glue we used to stick pieces back together is coming unstuck.
The plasters we covered up the holes with are peeling off at the edges.
But no one knows,
And that's the key.
We keep smiling and pretend it's all okay.

Skin & Bones.

I have eight fingers and two thumbs.
Breaking bones is not for fun.
I want you to know that.
But one by one I would break them all.
If it would get me under your skin.

Skin and bones is all we are.
And far better together.

Tragedy V: The Death Of A Flower.

I am nought but a wilting flower
And under the heat and light of the sky
I wither and die.


This is what the Isle of Wight trip reduced me to.  It was dire.

"Manage me, I'm a mess."

I'll keep walking down this road even though I know it's heading nowhere.  It seems like the best option.  And it passes the time.  If you're heading nowhere from nowhere, it doesn't make much difference, does it?
Maybe I'm missing out and the other roads had more exciting journeys to offer.  Maybe the birds sing sweeter or the sun shines brighter.  But I can't know for sure.

So I'll stay on course, stepping over cracks as feet have done before me and looking at the sky seen by a million other eyes.  The moon may pass and die a thousand times, but someday the road will come to an end, or I'll find my somewhere along the way.
That broken-down place I'll call home.

"You make me happy, whether you know it or not."

Delayed Appreciation:
Just to let you know, I appreciate the fact that you don't push things that you know I don't want to go into like other people would.  I think you say the right things without knowing it.  I hope you're doing okay and that you know I'm here whether you need me or not.
And I hope you know who you are.

Have a cookie.