I walk, I used to walk cause I walked.
Now it's like a promise made to others, never to myself. To exist, without ever desiring myself. But without a gaze upon me, I vanish.
I give everythingâfast, hardâ and I burn out in passions I cannot carry. I chase intensity, then I flee.
Drinking, at times, is dropping the mask. Itâs stopping the act of being who they expect. I apologize for existing too loudly, I turn my coat at the first shout.
I find myself in my mother, you'd laugh in her silences, her destructive loyalties. She too waited for a medical word to give her permission to leave.
I work to stay upright, but thatâs not where I live. I dream of a space without roles, without the need to prove anything.
In conflict, I blur, guilty for trying to be myself. And love, every time, becomes a crack instead of a refuge.
But you still.








