my igloo

I sit in front of my computer at my desk and pour a day into a life I won’t think of until I start over again tomorrow. in the moment everything is pressing. there are competing priorities and I jump as high as required. I may be reluctant and lacking enthusiasm. I still dance when they tell me to. however they want. I’m theirs til it’s dark and the day’s gone and I can’t remember why I started. money comes through someday. I’ll use it for food and my igloo. come closing time I indulge in ritual exercise on the mat on the floor. I am tired after a day of pressing buttons.

before bed I call my parents. they are always happy to hear my voice. I relish feeling needed, if only from those who I’ve leant on since the day I first cried into this funny state of being. they say they miss me and wash me in the words of love and affirmation I’ve so desperately craved from the wrong people. somedays I recognise how lucky I am to be treasured by those responsible for my being here. more often I am ignorant. I think of those I wish would dream of the validation I’ve pathetically wasted myself hoping for from them.

it’s the birthday of someone who ran away. I don’t know where he is now, or what I did to scare him off. on rare occasions he still surfaces to the fore. we meant a lot at the time. big words like forever. too big for 17 and a boy with so many friends in so many places. years between whatever it was and no space for bitterness, just unanswered questions and the knowledge I’ll always hold the door for him. he would have done the same. (past tense).

I look in the mirror and laugh again. I am an alien in my body. the signal is poor but what about any of that actually matters? everything is temporary. we are fickle and fragile. read the news. we are the lucky ones.