Surai
born on a sinking ship
- Mar 26, 2024
- 319
There is nothing, there is nothing you can't hide. There is nothing we decide we want to let go. When all we do is decide. How can it be so hard to decide. Drowning in a note to myself. To tell me I had enough. To remind us we had enough. Of whatever this all is. Of whatever we wanted it to be. When we won't get what we want, what do we do. But survive off what we need. It's never enough. If only we could lay down on a bed of sand in front of the ocean. And let the tide carry us in. Floating in a sea of worry. I can't take it anymore. To worry, to stress about. My being. If I'll ever be able to hold on for just a little longer. For what? I can't decide. This nature imbued in each one of us to keep living. And to be afraid of losing ourselves to the point we can't come back from. Why even try when a single butterfly could lead me to my death. If only we could float up in the sky, and not even try. To get what we wanted. What we had visions of. When this was all new. In our early years. Of trying to figure this all out. Half of the page was empty. And I wrote the first half. But it's just that. Images of myself. Of my understanding. And it meant nothing when it was just a page in a book no one was ever going to read.
