Perfect mistakes cradled me at night and kept me warm in winter. Hypocrites taught me to be the best I can be for everyone around me. The stab wounds rushed me to say what I wanted to. Confused figures kept me up at night and became my best friends. Conflict talked to me for hours on end when no one else would. Violence was useless; all it ever did was sit in the corner and stare at its hands. Not to mention the 200 band-aids that were glued to sensitive skin and never peeled off. Luckily, I’ve been starved enough that my breathing is light and quiet. It’s been raining salt for four years and counting. All that matters are the next few seconds of air.