Happiness is found in the cobwebbed corners, and those mysterious yet forgotten dusty drawers. Creaking across the floor, I sometimes tiptoe, sometimes crawl- I reach the sticky drapes and grip my hand around the cold crystal knobs and feel around in blind desperation. I mustn’t be forced anymore, I mustn’t be afraid, to just walk towards the darkest side of the room. In peace, at a steady pace, and a grin replacing my bloodied teeth cutting my lips. Make myself at home with the spiders in the air, let them whisper in my ears the secrets of the universe as I fall through the floorboards not gripping onto anything, just sinking with open palms. I’ll find the next wormhole beneath the dust when I remember once again to keep on moving.
The light will shine, like it’s doing now, after a dark night. And I will be eaten alive by acceptance. Renewed in the acid of the spider’s body. Born again, scarred, but beautiful. And maybe I’ll learn to stop resisting it all. What will be will be.