bravery comes in so many forms. sometimes bravery means keeping quiet when all you want to do is reach out and call to the person on the other side of tangled phone lines. sometimes bravery means speaking up when you wish you could run the other way and hide. in a world where we long ago decided the line dividing right and wrong had bled out into a muddles ink stain, how do you know which way to step? i make my way, wending towards the next morphing blob my heart is after. leaving, coming, going, knowing, colliding, falling, leaving again. is there a part that doesn’t hurt? i float back and forth in my and others’ wants and desires. we’re all treading on these breakable threads, the arteries connecting heart to heart to heart.