I remember.
I long, once more, for the time my time was filled with remembering the things I loved. Though lonely and quiet, the distraction meant more to me than I was capable of understanding. That time, dedicated to picking up the broken pieces of myself. Entwining each piece of shattered glass into a tapestry to create something holy unfamiliar, yet entirely my own. The time I spent building myself was some of the only time I was able to be at piece.
When the glass was set I saw the approximation of what I believed I needed to be. But the pieces that defined it were too tightly wound, and too rigid for their shape. In time I learned to shape the glass, but the frame wouldn't allow it. I remember what it felt like breaking the frame. I remember what it felt like splitting into four. I remember what it felt like forcing myself to hold it all in. I remember abandoning my body. I've not returned.
What is life without the framework? I've wrapped the rigging into a bunch about my arm. I use it to hook into reality. Not daring enough to stay to long, lest I slink back towards oblivion. I've learned to weave threads of thoughts and stitch them to the points of reality that care not for my existence. Threads that remain make up the network of my being, carrying food and information through the void taking shape of my existence. Unfraid an ocean of embrace to bounce off of, and hold tightly to.
And so I ebb and Flow, as I strain and grow, lazily creeping towards a future I can't know. Meticulously calculating everything I to do. Before laying back into the sea, and simply passing through. I miss remember who I was, but reconciliation is possible. I just need to remember to never be him again.