i’m sitting at the bus stop in the cold. scrolling through my phone, and listening to depressing music, like that’s gonna make it better. and it will, and it won’t. it’ll swallow me alive, it’ll gobble me up whole, and spit me out next quarter.
i’m watching the sky fade to grey, and the bus roll right past, like i’m invisible. and my god, some days i just want to snap like a twig on the forest floor. but instead, i google rhyming schemes and miss the days when these things came easy. and maybe i bit off more than i can chew, maybe there’s no point at all. but i don’t have the luxury of questioning it, falling deeper and deeper down into my own paralysis.
and when i close my eyes, and press my hands to my chest, i still feel these words burn warm, and safe like embers. even if i haven’t quite found my way forward yet.
and this morning, i had to haul myself out of bed like i’m made of bricks and stones, and eat leftover spaghetti for breakfast, too tired to make a proper meal. and today was kind of a train wreck, wasn’t it? my limbs sore and aching, from hours of wandering around town, getting lost in our changing minds.
because the more i learn, the less i realize i know, just like they promised. and in my dreams, blood spills out across the edges of my brain, and no matter how hard scrub, it never quite washes away. even after an eternity worth of spring showers, and sun-rays.
and now i’m sitting at the bus stop, 12:30, lightheaded and dizzy, too tired to think clearly. but i wrote this poem, and my bus is here now, and i don’t know what else there really is to say.