The line

Being on the line is like holding a knife to your own throat.
It's like loving fire when you're ice.
My brain can only house so much emotion that my heart pumps out.
I have a headache caused by my heart and mouth.

This line, these tears, and thoughts.
I want to bag these things, and throw them away.
But I can't. Sometimes memories are far too precious to throw away.
I can feel the memories, see every second of them. Feeling them as if they were real.
What I want, need, and have are all different things.
I don't know how much longer I can make this journey.
I need salvation.