Hold

When the floor gives way, we reach-

Clawing at walls, grasping at straws.

We cling on to all that we know, all that we are sure of, best as we know how. Except,

sometimes, when the world is determined to be difficult, we find that all we're left

holding on to has managed to start slipping through our fingers too.

And it feels like everything might crumble as soon as we touch it. We're at the end of our

rapidly fraying rope and shit,

It's a long way down.

Hold on. Hold on tight then,

To yourself.

Because when everything else is falling to pieces, when nothing's quite as you know it

anymore,

You are. And you are real, you are here.

And Lord knows, you've got to hold on to all that you know.

Because you might not know when you'll meet the ground, or where you'll be or when

you'll meet the ground. You might not know why it's happening or how or what it'll be

like to feel safe and steady again.

In the very least though, you'll know that the world might've stripped you of everything

you thought real,

but it couldn't take you away from yourself.

And there's not a chance in hell that it'll have the satisfaction of doing that.