Literature
Survival/Brain fog
I don't know how to live this life.
Not exactly.
No.
Sometimes not at all.
All I know is survival.
And I do crave calmness and serenity, but I see no way of obtaining it.
I forgot how to breathe.
Maybe I don't even have to know how.
My lungs do a poor job of keeping me present, but at least one of us does it.
If it was left to me, I would not know how.
I lose myself in deepest thoughts.
Darkest.
Most cruel.
And I try to shake it off, but this stain will not come off, no matter how hard I try.
I try to look out the window.
To focus on something else.
I see a bird freezing on a withering branch and I think about fragility.
The loop continues.
I look away.
My skin starts itching.
Why?
?
?
?
I'd much prefer to jump out of my own skin.
How do I do that?
?
?
?
Why haven't I learned it?
?
?
?
Can one...?
Learn...?
It...?
Can one...?
Jump?
Off the cliff...?
No. No. No. Not this again. Please.
Jump...?
Focus.
Please.
...
...
...
Can one jump out of one's skin...?
Yes.
That was the question.
But
