i think it hurts the most when life knocks the words out of your chest; i am still struggling to recover (them). a tear trails down your cheek because no matter how hard you try, you cannot find the right combination of words to connect head to heart. your made-up tragedy is not worthy to be hung up in the walls of a museum, people could care less about mediocre metaphors and an obsession with overcompensation.
you are forced to come to terms with a raw, battered soul and face the fraud in the mirrors. you are struggling not to drown in, but swim through the difficult parts of you; it feels foolish to be gasping for air in a bathtub when others are thrown out into the sea with its rough waves and tough tides. the dripping sink is reminding you of every second you waste, builds up to a lifetime of regrets that you may not be able to flush away. it hurts. it is a void you want to purge – but how do you get rid of something that is not there? why do i keep opening and closing the same page, over and over again? why do i start then stop soon after? why do i try, then give up? am i a blinkering wifi connection?
nobody likes a weak connection.
they’d rather switch it off, and switch to something more stable, like 4G.
this hollowness is growing too heavy to carry.