At this point, there’s enough questions surfing through TikTok that anyone who struggles to succumb to the truth will lose faith in answers.
Yet when the rhythm of “Good Days” unravels a masked sadness, I know why the answers aren’t spelled out into words. They belong to the silence that unraveled with you.
There’s enough ambiguity between who we are and how we are that it has become so unappealing for either of us to look and not run.
I wonder what your coffee looks like these mornings. Is it sweeter? bitter? lonely?
Like in chess all the pieces at play are compromised, they switch word for word and trust for none. Checkmate is pain, it’s remiss recognition. What I wondered then and fear now is so different and cloudy. How could I take away the picture of us with a mistake that is worth fixing? how could YOU let it go so easy? was that all made up and disposed already? was I that easy to forget?
I didn’t want those words to come out. I never do. I want to keep pretending that things are fine and that they will miss us. that we will miss us. and that when we come back, if we come back, things will be easier, purposeful, and real.
No lies allowed. Only a pass for the bathroom, a pass to obscure, a pass to lie low when aiming high is too out of touch.
I don’t know what this is or what it was meant to be. I’m just angry.