Find a theme and stick to it.

Otherwise You will always wander, carrying a reaching black pitted thing sticking to your ribs and scratching up your organs trying to get out. It will whisper and scribble out your eyes from the inside, hold its hand over your mouth while you scream and kick, but you can't shake it off.

It is this. Visceral and real, hunching your shoulders and sharpening your spine, you will find it hasn't left you even when everyone else has. It will hold your hand at night, stroking your hair and dripping ink so you don't forget this feeling.

Forgive it if there's a slight stinging, that's inevitable when one's treading on the brain. You didn't think you could take feeling like all this in conjunction with one's absence, so it dipped your mind in dust and shoved it in the corner, forgot to mention it. Stings will be aches now, then only a far off throb. It hopes you will work past this, and stop falling into its arms. It brings matches and lights up that smile and convinces those of us still left you're still all there, when you don't have the energy left to.