Lacuna

You thought you could change it though. You thought, maybe, if you fixed the world you would create a space for yourself. You fought to fix what was going wrong. What you failed to realise is that you are like a grain of sand. And the world is like a wall. And no matter how hard and how many times you flung yourself at it the change you needed was larger. Still, with no regard for yourself, you flung yourself at the world again and again – like clockwork. Like the ocean kissing the shore.

You failed, did you not?

The world was just as fucked up as it was when you began. You have gone nowhere. And now, you sit, a cold tusker in your hand and the bitter taste of defeat in your mouth. You are reading poetry, you are always reading poetry. You have alienated yourself from everyone because everything hurts. Everything brings back the pain that you felt when you first reached out to fix the world. Everything reminds you of the futility of the task that you are so deeply involved in that it has begun to define you. You don’t see yourself because you don’t exist.

Not anymore.

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