For the dark ones…

I’ve got a soft spot for the dark ones…

Those vulnerable, brooding types who truly know pain…

Those 90s kids too sensitive to bear the burdens of a landscape raped and reshaped…

Those quiet ones with addictions and bottomless eyes, often too immersed in their coping mechanisms to shoulder the responsibility they fiercely know belongs to all who care, for fear of falling apart…

Not nearly an irrational fear, as they’ve faced the crumbling of the frail foundations framed on shifting sands…

I feel a magnetism, and a hollow outpouring from where that is in me…

And, often, it’s carried me away, into becoming an instant nurturer to the wounded, beautiful soul, who can tell that I see them, and value their kind above all…

Because they are truly like me.  Fluctuating between being helpful and hopeless.  Happy and horrified.  In a world that we’re not sure is real.. any more than anything else.
To my tribe, to my family, I love you.

To the dark ones, you are not alone.

We are all alone together.

Until the moment of meeting eyes.