not enough

I have been flailing for a while now. waiting in the same spot for far too long, knowing I need to change. stagnant like the heat that hangs heavy through the streets of the city I've fumbled. disappointment waits at the foot of the mattress. I sleep on the floor and dream of people and places I may never see again. in my head I count through the list of things I need to fix. the list is long and heavy on my shoulders. I want to light it with a match, or fold a paper plane to catch the wind and fly away. there's nowhere left for me to hide.

every problem leads back to this fickle assemblage of thoughts and organs at the keys. we've known this all along. and though he knows he needs to seize the reigns, he doesn't move. does he expect someone else to do the work? watch him limp in circles through the labyrinth he waters with his own self-pity. what will it take to get him moving? he protests quietly, a pathetic mumble about this time of year and the heat. he says he's trying as he continues to do nothing at all to get over himself. growth is a hopeful memory left at home.

the days keep coming. I open my phone to blame something else for how I feel: a tyrant, a war, an idea, a reply that never comes. sitting on the sidelines, my presence is passive. when I open my mouth there is less to say now. the voice I once claimed collects dust on the shelf by empty bottles of care. I shirk responsibility for the map I should be drawing. the lines make such little sense. the reflection is a nightmare they say I could change if I really tried. my parents love me and I love them too. there is food in the fridge and a chance of showers in the morning. is this not enough?