The Midnight Poet

Suit

Mom will blame dad and dad will blame mom. Where does that leave us? My sister? My brother? Me? Why is this life a hindrance. Life is meant to be a gift. The most cherished gift reality could give the worthy. So, what happened? When did the rules change? Did I do this? Is it my fault for driving them apart? Did they know, know about the consequences of choice? I want to know what love is but I was depraved of what was mine to begin with. A mother's love...a present father. A big sister to guide me...even a little brother who is no longer little. I'm not perfect, but I'm trying. I did everything right. Most things right...maybe I could have been a better sister. Heard my sister out when she vouched for mom. Taught my brother not to fall into bigotry. Maybe being an artist in a world starved for creativity is too taxing. Maybe I eat too many words a day with all the books I read. I really do want to stop reading again, but I can't. I too have fallen into starvation. The hunger for inspiration too tempting a treat. A drug for the soul. I wanted to make history at one point. I feel I have. My story isn't told in anything, is it? Maybe my notebook. My notebook and this app. For what are words but impulses strung together into something tangible. Expressive and understood. Day in and day out the algorithm sees what we write. Mayhapse it cries. Mayhapse it doesn't care. Mayhapse it does both at the same time.
What would happen were I to disappear completely? The last time I was "AWOL" my family freaked out. They were so scared. They did things without me but were thinking about me. Worried even, like I actually mattered. Why did it take me breaking for them to notice I was suffering? I could tell they were suffering too. Still are. I am a good problem solver. They could be too. I was thinking that something is broken. That I could fix it. To some extent I did. I looked crazy doing it but by God it worked. They were happy. They were all happy. What changed to make things go downhill again? Loss? Greed? Anger? A mix of all those things...? How do we incinerate...repurpose those things? Get rid of bias. Help where needed.
I felt so unsafe. So alone. More alone than I had ever been in my entire life. The moon was my only friend and even the nurse told me I couldn't talk to them. Couldn't look at the only light in the night sky. Like it's taboo to be different. Things that are different are strong. Distinguished. Poisonous? It's all about perception. A guise. The ace up my sleeve.
Now that you know. What will you do next dear reader?

-Liv