No, I’m not ok. But I haven’t been ok since I was 11, maybe 12. I am still here though.
I’m still breathing. For me, sometimes, that will have to be enough
You’re not my first love but you’re
the first I’ve loved like this. I
wonder if everything before you
was just practice, like stretching
my arms out so I could hold you
better. You’re like a song I’ve
heard before, but never at full
volume; you’re the end chorus
with all the instruments in.