je suis mon protecteur.

lose faith. lose hope. stop loving. lose sensation. lose control. lose touch with reality. lose your mind. sell your soul, probably for more than its worth. 

today i woke up with two years of bags under my eyes. like the rings on your nightstand, from that forgotten cocktail you passed out on before you got to finish, leaving behind only those little warped rings on the table to remind you of exactly what it was you were trying so hard to forget in the first place. funny how something so trivial can manage to be so daunting. i run my fingers and palms vertically over my face, pushing my filthy hair back and finally curling my fingertips underneath - allowing my elbows to meet at my nose. i sit like that for a moment, eyes closed. i breathe though my mouth and smirk. i think “sure, it would seem as if the people that “love” me are so eager to devour me…and sure…maybe its true.” then i think of all the times i’ve bound my broken wings until they mended. using my one free hand and my teeth, i’d wrap my wounds and carry on until i could fly again. or all of the times you’d killed me, i would wander in limbo until you began to feel free, and then i would be reborn in front of you, stronger than before - and continue to your dismay, to haunt you with my unfaltering convictions and passionate freewill. nearly anybody is spirited these days, and even less of us are free. so when a companion of mine mentions that maybe some resentment is involved due to my rich possession of both traits, it no longer appalls me to consider. how else could you so easily break what you created? you can break me, and i’ll allow it, every time, but don’t ever lose sight of how much stronger i continue to come back. wreck me as long as you please, because eventually, it will be my defeat and rebirth that destroys you. i will always be my own biggest support, my own best friend, my own protector. iwillalwaysbeenoughforme. it’s nearly spring, and as this nearly always occurs on cue, i’m waiting to burn - so i can blossom.