“I’m So Unwhole. I Don’t Know Where All The Pieces Of Me Are, How To Fit Them Together, How To

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Gentle Spirit

Hubble Spots the Spider Galaxy by NASA Hubble Space Telescope

And it whispers

Maybe I do remember.

The quiet thoughts in dark corners during rainy days or sunny mornings.

I remember losing. Losing against thoughts that snuck up on me.

Is that form beside me a friend? It whispers to me, like a friend would, like we share a secret.

It’s the secret to why I feel like this. The whispers are heavy when they reach my ears. Words with weight to them.

My knees shake. It’s cold. It's the rain. Is it the light breeze? There’s sun. We’re holding hands. We’re holding hands. We’re holding hands.

I don’t know what’s gripping me. I don’t know what’s holding me down.

I can’t stand up.

It won’t let me go. It’s in my legs, in my arms. Weight, so much weight. It holds my hand. And it whispers.

It’s staying up at night

Listening to the ticking of the clock,

the sounds from outside.

It's being distracted for just a short time

by the light of the streetlight

shining through the carelessly closed shutters

It’s hoping not having to face the next day

It’s numbing fear

Waking up the next morning,

starting the day with newfound motivation

It’s creeping up throughout the day

Doing the dishes,

writing an essay,

drinking coffee

And suddenly it’s there

— Thanksgiving 2006, Ocean Vuong, from 'Night Sky with Exit Wounds'

[text ID: Brooklyn's too cold tonight

& all my friends are three years away.

My mother said I could be anything

I wanted — but I chose to live.]

The color of my soul is a shade no one seems to like.

Charles Bukowski, "hurry slowly," from Come On In!

"To forget, to forget ...", Vahan Teryan (translated by Tathev Simonyan)

Louise Glück, from ""Averno", Averno