been thinking about the idea

of writing like my life depends on it

doing anything like my life depends on it

because maybe it does

these words from these hands

with terror in my gut

day in and day out

why do it at all

none of us make it out alive

so why do anything

its increasingly easy to fall into Nihlism

when their is so much I can never control

it breaks me down but maybe thats good

maybe the future is not about erasing the bad feelings

maybe its not about sorthing through the memories and deleting things I never wanted to see

maybe its about crawling from the broken glass in the filthy bathroom

pulling myself up into a chair

sifting through the rubbel to find a notepad

and deciding to write in the middle of the chaos

and write

and write

and write

until i finally realize, that the opposite of destruction is not rebuilding the old house

but about picking up my pieces from the rubbel and building a new one

it is