letters i'll never give you

worrying about the big small things

As you are reading this,
or just possibly skimming through,
we both know that your mind isn't like mine,
and even if you just realized it now,
I've always known.
Every time i share eye contact with someone,
I know behind their eyes, their brain
isn't sick like mine.
I don't mean mental illness, i don't know
if i have any, or if they do.
and I won't ask.
But it has come to my attention
that not everyone is scared that they will die
at almost any time of the day.
Not everyone is uncomfortable because they know
how small they are on the face of the Earth.
I like science. I love space,
but space makes me anxious
because i don't understand it.
I'm not bright, even the people who claim to love me
tell me how not-smart i am, but even so,
any other time i don't understand something
I'm not uncomfortable. Frustrated, maybe.
Space is different. It's so big, it's terrifying.
Why are we here? Why do we exist?
What happens when we don't exist?
Before we are born, where are we in the universe?
Up? Down? A little to the left?
I think that stuff all the time.
I think that i haven't been alive
the sixteen years i've been on the planet sometimes.
I'm obsessed with being aware of my position
in a store, and on the street that store is on.
In what state? What city?
What universe? How many are there?
Will I ever find out?
Have you, reader, ever questioned that before?
Now that i have put it in your mind,
will you ever question it again?
Some people believe that
things and people aren't really dead
until someone thinks of them for the last time.
These questions will never die for me,
at least, that's how it feels.
Honestly, I hope they die for you,
because questioning your existence
until you cry, it isn't fun.
I just hope you can understand how it feels
without feeling it.
(9/24/20)