Sigh

 I can hear her. It's not Anorexia this time.  Nor is it her sister Bulimia.  It's not even their cousins OCD or BPD. No, it's a different kind of anxiety this time.  This time it's their long-lost friend. It's their lover Suicide.  And she's begging me to come play.  -H  December 11, 2020

I still find myself dancing around, twirling intricacies for you. Painting the stage in your favorite color, Singing of your ecstatic dreams. I still find myself here in this desolate stage. Now observed as a cave, You've lost your appetite to spectate.  -H December 6, 2020

  I find this time of year so weird. People going back to families, Eager for their embrace, People saying they're going back home. Where is home? Have I ever felt at home? I don't know this security,  Don't know the relief of being "home". - H December 6, 2020