something, i think

How do you find your place in this world when it doesn’t exist in the first place?

I have walked endlessly to find a path, only to be constantly met with dead ends.

I wore multiple shoes and glasses to aid me, only to discover they never fit me and the lenses aren’t ever the right degrees for my eyes.

I have met people, only for their hands to feel foreign in mine or for them to let go of mine.

They say to find something, to talk to people, and whatever. I tried it all but all my hobbies and motivation dissipated like a flame on a dying candle, I feel like a ghost when I’m around the people who I cherish, and nothing ever seems to fit me.

Plus, even if I found a place in the future, will it save me before the vessel that holds me rejects me?

My eyes illustrate a disproportionate decaying corpse whenever I glanced at the puddles of water, still ponds, and a silver slate.

My nails claw at my skin, the organ that feels either too bare or too tainted, in hopes to release its taut clutches onto my rotten bone.

My legs run away from the people and places that are supposed to help me while beelining to the things that make me come undone.

With a body that refuses my existence and nowhere to go, I still find myself wanting to be at home. Should life continue to be this way in another five or so more years, I don’t think I can save myself. And, if I can’t save myself, I cannot be saved at all.

If I fail, I hope death gently embraces and holds me like a mother that I never had.