may 13, 2025
i skipped a concert to come to the lake and cry.
i sobbed and rubbed my snot and tears into the sleeves of my sweater. i felt like a lost child, aimlessly plunking each step into the ground as my blurry eyes frantically try to make sense of the streaks of green and brown around me. i sat down by a big rotting tree and let myself feel (unfortunately).
in between painful gasps, wiping my nose, and spilling saline tears all over myself, my eyes lock onto the man-made lake. ebbing and flowing and pushing itself around. silvery and gleaming, like liquid metal. creating white caps at the corners of its abstract lines, jumping up and disappearing.
i wanted to jump in - tear a hole into the billowing fabric. i wanted it to swaddle me, lap at my skin and envelop it in its shocking grasp. i wanted it to be unforgiving, pulling me closer and deeper down into its center.
i wanted it to keep me there
i wanted to drown
april 19, 2025
do i know them anymore?
because they don't know me.
they know a me that existed long ago - a chunk of me, unrealized and partially-formed, searching tirelessly for its missing pieces.
knowing me now, you'll see that i found most of them. i searched, i grabbed, and i rearranged. i glued them into place and formed a body that i can confidently label as 'me'.
but if you look closely, you'll find a leftover gaping void where a piece should be. rough, greedy hands dug in their nails and ripped it out, leaving tattered webs of glue in its socket.
i stare into nothingness and it glares back forcefully at me. day and night, it pokes and prods and paws at my insides. it tears at me and tires itself out, failing to melt the glue that seeps through the edges of my gathered pieces.
nevertheless, the clock keeps ticking, the world keeps spinning, and the hungry void forever cries out for mercy.
will it ever be satisfied?