😶‍🌫️

6/7/25 (unedited)
          
          Am I becoming a stranger to myself as well as the world? I looked back to find myself now remote in a way I struggle to measure. It feels like the recognition of an absence that was already within me. A bleary, primordial, premature lack. A nothingness disguised within its heaviness. A labyrinth into void. The past 25 years, a bleary veil. It's not an ego death because the ego never matured, and now it strains against (quicksand/a heavy current). I am coming to identify (identify with? merge with?) the me that was never meant to be born. Like I've just brushed my fingers against this fundamental split between the me that should've died in birth, and the me that was pulled out unnaturally, upside down + twisted + premature.

27/1
          
          My logic and emotions were once so achingly separate. (And my subconscious ran circles around me, littering premonitions in its drift). But these days it punctuates them, injecting new depth into (what was once so raw, and so deep, but so (fixed, all-consuming, single-hued)).

April 2024
          
          I am like a salmon swimming against the current - ever so slowly I develop resilience (but then I liquify and drain back into the entropic bog)

Darling you are only a tangent of me 

I can marvel at the newfound space in my body like I would at blown glass
          
          The so-called empty is luminous, and languid I find spots to curl into 

Was every day Groundhog Day with me?

"What makes loneliness so unbearable is the loss of one’s own self which can be realised in solitude..."

...I feel so energetically flossed and frazzled and apathetic. But how beautiful it's becoming in the moments when dawn breaks for me, brief as they may be. How I have more of a place in these moments these days. 

Baby's eyes clouded already
          I was born tired, so I unravel primordially
          Now I flounder in infantile entropy

There's literally no fight in my muscle memory