A Collection of Small Nothingness

My Own Victim

I often catch myself
in my own little bubble
away from the world
My brain on autopilot
easily guiding me
right into a storm
that I don't want to be in.
A storm even bigger than it seems
Badder than it seems.
I know it'll be rough
people already caught in that storm
are dying
collapsing like
towers
in an earthquake
but still
I can't bring myself to turn off
my autopilot
To protect myself and turn away
Why can't I turn away from the storm?
Do I want to be one of those people?
Maybe,
Yes, I do.

I just want to be part of something.
Anything.
Even if it means breaking myself.
Even though I know it'll leave me with
scars of regret.