This world would rather bury you alive than see you flourish. So, gather your own bones out of the excavation and cradle them close – what, did you think someone else would? Align your own vertebrae and suture your own flesh. Put on the war-paint and walk out that door. Let the scars and wounds leak, air them out – let sunlight serenade what you had thought to hide; show them the dream they had tried so hard to bury.
—  sdf 143/365 | preservation (accompanying piece to x & x).