21

21

Because I don’t know what common sense is anymore –
Or if I have it,
Or if I want it.
Everything feels up in the air, like chairs and boards flying around inside of a tornado.
You want to reach out and grab it like you’re anchored to the ground,
But you’re a silly human and you should know better.
21
is not an age,
But rather a dislocation, a transformation,
An enraged discomfort without reservations.
The only thing that helps me see clearly are these bright lights
Without them I am blind.
21
is not an age,
But rather my destination, I think, because I don’t know what I’m doing here.

Back to the drawing board.

M.

Sometimes I feel so incredibly, and terrifyingly alone.
Sometimes I cling to things like they’re my last breath.
Sometimes I feel like my whole life people have been keeping secrets from me, that I’m really just a crazy person and everyone’s in on this plan to make me feel normal.
Sometimes,
we all go a little mad.

Say anything.

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