�

i know bipolar spring afternoons. they seem to come every year. there's screaming. and crying. and i wrap up into a ball with my knees in my eyes like i no longer have eyes, like i'm only a skeleton. and blood in the tub to remind me i'm not, yet.

and it was one of those afternoons that she came behind me and put her arms on my back and said 'if you know you're going down the wrong path the worst thing you can do is continue'

and maybe that's not entirely right, but i think that the only things you can do when you know you are doing something wrong is to change paths or try to go down the same path in a different way.

i wish she was still here. i bet she would have something to say as i gazed at the tiny cuts on my knees that i see more clearly the closer i get. even if i have to stick them in my eyes.