Drifting

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

Something meaningless;

Worthless.

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.

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