It’s hard letting go, I’m finally at peace, but it feels wrong, Slow I’m getting up, My hands and feet are weaker than before. And you are folded on the bed Where I rest my head, There’s nothing I can see, Darkness becomes me.
And every day, the world will drag you by the hand, yelling, “This is important! And this is important! And this is important! You need to worry about this! And this! And this!” And each day, it’s up to you to yank your hand back, put it on your heart and say, “No. This is what’s important.
Iain S. Thomas,I Wrote This for You (via sortnoir)