When all you can hope to do is breathe, but your lungs are coated in dusty exhaustion which sleep cannot cease, it seems self-sabotage is the only relief– on the way to salvation. The subconscious knows what we cannot begin to admit. If admittance were deemed an admirable feat perhaps becoming a being with meaning would be worth it. What is “worth” in the grand scheme of things? A preconceived notion society intervenes in to determine the depth of a person. Our pain is only allowed to go skin deep, anything deeper gets swept under a political rug until dust bunny demons come out to haunt us. Mental illness cannot be fixed until we are each given the right to embrace it.