Holding

 Hold up, and hold on. Hold on to what you know or believe, and can't live without. Hold out for himor her, and hold through- desperately cling to anything that separates you from society as a mass. Hold on though windy weather, screaming fits, and wet, cold Earth-shattering heat flashes that tear one-track minds from their ties. Hold up to standards you scribbled with a borrowed pen, hold someone tighter than escaping, and snatch hold of little concepts dancing just out of reach. Grab them up, and don't you dare let them go. Take hold of anything you don't want to set free, and clutch it like it's the answer to everything you need. Don't just stand here whilst these waves wash us out and through, leaving us dripping in shame, bare of individuality and color.

I saw him, my something to hold on to, come back soaked, foreign, and missing those beautiful pieces I used to love and he did, too. I watched a change, a beginning- this death- and something sick that wasn't there before throw off all that was ever right and fit and him. I saw it, and I'm pissed. I thought you were so much stronger than that.

You were the one who showed me to stand out, to catch eyes as a wallflower, to always say 'I love you', to jump and shout and scream with the righteousness of a pure opinion that cannot be changed, to give away anything and love the best of losers, and to dance and sway even when humanity is staring. And knowing that you were the one to show me so much life makes the creeping hint that you've decided to be a number, a uniform, a face in a crowd of one outfit and belief just this much more hopeless. What did you want me to believe?