about the angst

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.