lost is found.

As a kid, I always envied all the other kids when the school’s annual Parents' Day swung by.

Imagine a day where being carried for nine months has been returned in appreciation nine-fold or more. …

Some days feel different yet so welcome. Like an old friend who comes to visit every once in a blue moon. It barely sits on the tip of your tongue, not jumping in to keep you at the edge of curiosity.

A familiarity that can only be reminisced, not recreated.

Every time I close my eyes, I fear that days will pass me by. My mind blanks out in a blink, memories hanging on the sharp strands of my hair. Who or what sits before me fades into the starless space hidden beneath my eyelids. …

One day, I decided to clean my desk a few minutes before the end of my shift. I sunk to the floor, flashed a light, and before me was a diorama of dust and hair. It looked like the stress I had in the moment had casually manifested physically. …

Is it bad that I’ve acclimated to the speed at which life comes and goes? It’s as if seasons have lost their magic, with no surprise left to satisfy my eyes. What mercy does the privilege of life bring if it is nothing but a ferryman to death. I grow…

How long must we keep looking at the broad oblivion that approaches our miniscule tomorrows? It looms over the once golden horizon, daring us to shake fists at its hailstorm. Watch it fracture the knuckles of our desperate hands, bloating with bone and blood. …

How many times have you been crucified by nails that aren’t yours? Not one soul believes in the sorrow that bleeds from the holes past the point of infection, and here you are, begging for some form of verbal medication for these little altercations. Hammers ram themselves into your bones…

How this story ends depends on a question with all and no mystery. Send me back into a spiral whirled by my own hands. Tongue-tied, legs locked tight, a heart that fits a little too right — I’m dancing with a frown even though it’s already my best smile. …

My feet walk forward in the opposite direction, a habit I can’t seem to undo. It’s a trust-fall off a cliff with no parachute or any crowd to catch me. A dance for ten, performed by one, to a tempo swinging me between lies too untrue. …

kbear.

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