The air is thick and grey and moist. And it’s these sort of evenings where I just want to sit on top of my bed and unravel my life. Sometimes I just want to break it in half. Right down the middle. I’d pull it’s strings apart and set them out on the sheets in front of me. I’d lay out everything that makes me feel whole. The scarred edges of truth. The stained bits that hold on to too many memories. The little fragments that make me feel brave. The shards of self-destruction. The crumpled shreds of a dried up love, or whatever that was. The dusty pieces that I’m proud of. The parts of you that I still carry with me. The remnants of I don’t even know. There are so many slices to my life, so many layers. It’s hard for me to open up and I still don’t know how I’ve been doing so well lately. But for now, I’m just going to open the windows and air out my musty little life.