after the blink
i always thought i’d know the moment, the exact second when i’d cross some invisible line, and become the version of myself i've been pursuing-
but nothing happened. no trumpet call. no enlightenment. -just me again. still here. still circling. like a bug trapped between panes of glass, only one of them is me, the other, a reflection of who you think i am.
i don’t lie, exactly, i just leave things out. the way some people skip meals when they’re too tired to chew. that’s how i’ve handled the truth. just… left it untouched on the plate.
there was a better me once. he wrote poems in margins, and saved voicemail messages because the sound of a voice meant something. he believed in things, or at least he believed in believing.
i don't know where i left him. somewhere between a goodbye, and an empty room.
and now? now i live in the pause between explanations and silence. the door is open. the lights are off. and if you blink- you won’t hear the sound of me leaving.




















