hands-on, hands-off, steering wheel. drove headlights first. crashing anxiety, thoughts, fears.
the overwhelming feeling of impending doom.
sitting down i wonder,
do i make this art? or does this art make me?
so the butterfly effect found its wings.
1 tale, 2 tales, 3 tales time. they told of the girl who never stopped by — walking ‘round aimlessly, looking for the purpose to her next couple weeks.
the balance tilts heavy towards the wrong side.
down here, aiming high, hoping to reach the stars.
down here, the apartment’s tiny, but it’s mine. there are cat scratches on the couch, but it’s mine.
different lights, all shining the same.
surrounded by myself, the shadows of this heart, cast by the ghosts of those i used to trust, still hovering over me.
but, i don’t sleep on that old mattress anymore. i don’t think about them like i used to before.
i didn’t trust them with my life, but, with something far more precious. priceless.
my love, no more.
now, the only thing left to wander is…
where’s the version of myself that didn’t lose her mind?
