Study your pain instead of drowning in them.
I hate how grieve makes me feel like the worst being on the face of the earth.
Makes me rot in the depths of my mattress, soaking in my own salt water.
Everything that’s in my head and chest I’ll transfer it to the tips of my fingers, so it’ll move on its own to create pain on paper.
Almost as if I’m a machine of my own mind.

I’d turn the blaze of anger into tiny letters on my screen.
I’d turn the forest fire of my disappointment into ink marks on paper.
I dig deep into my own flesh and blood to find the root cause of my uneasiness.
There’s where I’ll put four and four together and find my way out the mess.
I’ll walk out as someone who’ve learnt her lesson.

I study my pain instead of drowning in them.
Because I’m deathly afraid of the thought of water filling your lungs.
I’ve always thought that I’m made of water, and I’ll come back to the water.
But my moves and actions portray nothing but burning.

I guess my hypothesis for the catastrophe that unfolds this morning is that you’ll fear the ones you love more than the ones you avoid.
Avoiding something means you fully understand the risk and aftermath of it all.
Loving something means you fully trust and let go yourself to an open body of water not knowing what will be and not wanting to know what will be.

In few short moths one of my friends will need that advice and I’ll be right there.
Because I’m wiser and older.
But really those are just my word on a paper.