Everyone holds on to a tightrope and in that depth of a sentence lies this hybrid of unspoken yet loud train of thoughts that just sped past you. You can never have everything all at once but you constantly put the positives in line, kept replacing it with something even more optimistic like a game of snap, fastest hand first. You create this facade that shadows the broken or shade the healing but every now and then everything becomes poison, scars showing, flaws unleashed. Trembling hands searching for antidotes, knowing well enough it is you against your racing heartbeat, you against the tumultuous abyss of seemingly white noises and you against all odds of an escapade. 

Breathe, they said. 

Not knowing that breathing was what started this rapid growth of sudden thinking, this deliberation of why and how and when. Everyone knows you are strong and everyone knows you are not. 

They do not however, 

know.

xx, Lo.