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on the coffee table in a dimly-lit living room, i spread out a map to the best of my ability. running my fingers over each of the creases, feeling every possible wrinkle under my fingertips. i let out a low sigh and perch my chin upon my hands with my elbows stabbing at my knees.

my eyes dart back and forth, my mind constructing a journey built upon the theoretical and hypotheticals.

my lungs are flooded with what was once lament and it spills from out of my throat onto the floor below.

i found myself yelling "self worth is not found in someone else" at the top of my lungs.

i've fought my battles, but i never really won.

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