blind faith

everyone handles the stress differently.

call your mom, and your brother, and that one friend who wasn't ever close to you just to feel like you've finally got the story straight.

latch the door and eat the key.

imagine eighty-two lifetimes where he might love the next one less; blind faith in the mysteries of the universe.

pull out every strand of hair and glue it to the mirror.

slide a balled-up twenty to the liquor store cashier, hoping and praying your card won't decline.

everyone heals in their own time.