I am the girl who sleeps at 4:00am and wakes at noon, I’m the girl with the green eyes and numb hands. I’ve survived black holes and car crushes and too-many-endings. I’ve survived.
When my cousin asked me what I want to be when I grow up I said I wanted to be stardust floating on the darkest sky. But maybe I’m already too grown up and I will never fly… I think I’m afraid of falling/failing. I’m afraid of relapsing, of those white rooms filled with whiteness (emptiness), white lights and white pills. I’m afraid of our fragility. I’m afraid you will never come (back) for me.
 
I’m just a girl, too young to drown, too old to believe anymore. It doesn’t matter what the sea-waves whisper anymore, or how cold I am. I keep walking on tear puddles, molding abandoned dreams to butterflies and setting them free. (I can’t forget. I can’t forget.)
 
I used to steal the voice of nightingales just so I could tell you the moon’s secrets. But now the sky is crumbling down. You are long gone and I’m still here, just a girl with eyes containing the sea, just a girl with braided hair and empty hands, too afraid to let go and fly.