An attempt at giving up
losing every strategically placed memory
that I’d swear I’d forgotten. Considering distance -
considering the chore of an empty room.
More space to keep clean than before.
Like the water glass before me
filled with water that tastes a little muddy
like it’s unsure of what it really is
Refilled multiple times with uncertainty
so full that it spills out over the top and ruins every single moment.
Settling dust becomes my body.
Outline appearing, despite my disappearing interest for anything at all.
Remembering reflections of myself in puddles where I seemed more real than I ever have before.
Life doesn’t feel real anymore.
A cloud of dust resembling what once had seemed to be something.
A glass of water with no water is just a glass you wish you’d filled.
