One year after thirty and here I am again
Realizing I’m still scared to sleep alone
It’s not only the scary thought in the dark
But in the realization that my surroundings is turned off
The light is dimmed and I lay on my own
My mind goes wildly everywhere
Especially to deep, complex feelings, that I forget during the day.
Tears that drop voluntarily, carrying mysterious weight
Clumps of tissues, not knowing its roots
Is it the changes in work that challenge my need to be labeled capable?
Is it realizing I have PTSD even from being broke?
Or is it the fact that besides not having a safety net financially, now the emotional is also officially gone?
My parents? Friends? Loneliness that is probably in my DNA?
Or maybe, just maybe
It’s the fact that I tried to play my guitar yesterday, for the first time after all these months
And just listened to “Sparks” during my night shower
In which I thought of writing something about ‘from matching tattoos to complete strangers’
Just before looking at the blueprint?
I mean what the fuck?
…
I made my choice, typical over rare spice
Sounds cliché and yet very logical
I am hungry for two different highs
And I took the tangibles over natural
Call me shallow, or even a materialist
But I like this sense of power and rises
Intimidating, and always on the list
Even if it includes questioning my life choices
Convincing myself I am decent
Tattooing another reminder
That I shall live in the moment
And it will only get better
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