The world stopped looking forward,
and so did I.
I wanted to be welcomed, to be wondered about, to be recognized.
Instead,
I got questions.
Who the fuck are you? Why aren't you more interesting and compelling and engaging?
Who the fuck are you?
I am you.
I am you - the best of you - the worst of you. I am you, half cut with a smoke and wandering around hoping the pretty neighbour will notice. I am you, half asleep and sober with hope and love thinking the pretty neighbour will notice.
I am you.
You are both here and there and everywhere as well.
I am you.
I am you, but trying. I try to be the one. I try to be the only one. I try to be the only one who cares.
Maybe I care too much. Maybe I look forward too much. Maybe I wander too much.
Maybe not.
I am you. I am me. I am us.
We are in this together and I understand. We are not apart. We are a part of the whole, big beautiful thing.
The world stopped looking forward, but I could not.
I see you here, and there and everywhere as well.
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