It’s late, and I’m coming down with a cold,
Or something of the sort.
I should be sleeping,
But I’m not ready
And yet, I don’t want to be awake either.
Can I just stop existing for a little while?
Come back when I’m ready?
I’m on edge, and I’ve been there for hours
I want to be alone, but I’m afraid
Afraid of missing something
Afraid of the darkness
Terrified that when I’m done being alone,
I will find that I have no choice but to keep being alone anyway
So I hang back without pulling completely away
Waiting at the top of the stairs
Hiding, but hoping to be found
Pretending to be happy,
But hoping someone notices that I’m not.
Oh, who am I kidding?
I don’t even know what I’m doing now
Just screwing things up for myself, and sometimes the people around me
Saying and doing the wrong thing
Drifting, and looking for something to hold on to
And sometimes I even think I’ve landed
But my islands always vanish
Making me question whether they were ever there in the first place
That is the most terrifying thing in the world to me
Endlessly drifting through oceans or empty space
Never coming back to solid ground
But isn’t that what we’re doing right now, on this planet?—
No, don’t even go there
I’ve never been a fan of such obvious insight
Another way to keep me drifting
Too hopeless to bother reaching for land
And it scares me to write this
So much that I want to shut this notebook; stop writing
Or turn the page and start over;
Write something happier
Something that isn’t so real
Desperate now, I reach out for something, anything
I don’t expect to feel anything.
But I do
And before I can react to reach further,
I know what it is
Because it stretches out to me
Bridging the gap
Fingers wrap around mine
Pulling me in
Back to the ground.