Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

"Just living is not enough", said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."
— Hans Christian Andersen.

it's not the storm before the calm.

"Sometimes you can't figure out the truth because you're asking people that are emotional or socially invested in you to be brutally honest. Often family or friends will tell you what you want to hear, or what they want to believe because of their emotional investment in the situation. Instead of circling the drain with biased speculation, go out and get twenty unbiased people that have nothing to lose if they speak their mind and then ask them what they think. After you do that, stop asking for people's perspectives. Accept their answer because you're not going to ever know the truth when the person you love lies to you. Sometimes, you only have the truth of common-sense when the unbiased majority has offered you their opinion. When we care about people, we believe the most far-fetched fantasies to help us deal with our actions, their actions and conversations we missed out on. Our intuition then becomes compromised. You should never put your life on hold, in order to decide what the truth is. The memory of truth no longer remains pure in the mind of a liar."

- Shannon L. Alder.


She climbs out of bed with her heavy eyelids,
swollen from self-inflicted punches.
Her brain is a work of it's own,
in a mess with paint splattered all over.
Her mind is like a tangled earpiece,
frustration trying to figure out

where did it all start from?

It all began some way or another,
perhaps as she would like to believe,
that the inconsistencies in her mind
were the spark that set off an unintended fire.

Would she be accepted for the wreckage in her mind?
Would she be lying to herself if she said she wasn't crazy?

And she starts dancing, doing somersaults,
stretching her arms as wide as she could,
stretching her mind as wide as she could,
dodging the bullets, in a twisted jump and duck.

Landing on both feet,
she wondered if she could survive worst.
Perhaps a twenty floor jump,
landing at the bottom, like a cat.

Who would she grab hold onto?
Who would hold her back?

And then the inadvertent thought that pops back in her head,
about why she was even tumbling around in the first place.

when did it all begin?

Blurry memories, fuzzy images,
muffled voices, hand signs.
What were the hand signs,
what was indicated?

What is the next move?
When is the next move?
What happens next?
What happens at all?


Don't get used to it, she said.
The flags aren't up, she said.
I don't know the colour yet, she said.
Have a little faith, she said.
Have some hope, she said.
Don't die, she said.

Self-talk is the best,
when you're sitting all alone,
oblivious to everything,
no questions, no answers.



This is the deep and dying breath of this love that we've been working on.


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