I was surrounded by people,
Sitting on a plane back “home.”
A place I thought would give me the greatest happiness,
what can I be given
when I have done nothing with my life?
Between my states of
through the shifting currents of the plane,
the natural turbulence of the skies,
I began to fear this inevitability of death.
And why has it not happened already?!
Every day I choose to live,
it is the most painful
yet somewhat rewarding experience to exist.
What is the purpose of existing
when I barely feel alive or am truly “living.”
Pits in my heart so deep,
and hiding secrets untold
yet essential to my personal identity.
Am I really alone?
Or simply, hiding?
Is this turbulence just my trembling heart
shaking so violently
I cannot hear anything but the vibrations of my anxiety?
What do you do when all you want to do is love but cannot love yourself? Unravel