there is an angst in my heart. it is always there.
even when i’m happy. even when it doesn’t make sense.
sometimes i miss little parts of me.
little parts of what i can’t remember.
little parts of what i have burning in my brain.
this angst has a name.
but i don’t know its name.
all i know is everything else.
and that i can’t ask it to go away.
i am afraid i’ll miss it.
i am afraid i won’t recognize myself without it.
i am afraid that, without it, there would be nothing left.