my neighbour in the library writes in a different alphabet. I can barely string another sentence in my own. sitting among lawyers and teachers and doctors, all with functions and something to bring to the table. professions with purpose. vacuum-sealed skills from shelves I can't reach. I rake the sand over a mind with nothing more to show than fears. what am I beyond this feeling? we learn about children and the world we've said we owe them. everything is grown up. I do my best to play along and speak their language. every second closer to lost balance. why did I leave myself behind? I look for someone else to blame down stairs that never end.
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