I am in limbo
I am in an airport, where the only food is a turkey sandwich; lathered in mayo, which I love, but coincidentally is also lathered in mustard, which I don't care for
An airport in which the only drink is coffee; it isn't sweet nor is it bitter nor does it taste of coffee at all
My flight has been delayed and there are no other flights available
As I am wandering the airport, and the gate keeps getting changed
I am stuck, and I am lonely
I will be eviscerated if I dare step foot outside; I've seen it happen
I have been here for a millennium
I've never been scared of death, so where does the fear come from now?
I am in pain
I feel desperate
Why am I hesitant now?
What is the point of fear or hesitation?
I cannot be saved,
Nor can I be ******
There is no hope; there are no alternatives to reality
I, of course, know why I am hesitant
I have people that I care too much about
Nothing stalls one like the fear of disappointing people one loves
But, am I a person?
What am I?
Whatever I am, I wish I wasn't
My cease of existence and the pursuit of that ideal has been halted
I've seen my loved ones smile and laugh far too often to let it be an “easy” decision
I wish I was able to make a clear choice
Yet, I hover
I walk the delicate line of being alive and ceasing to be
I walk the line of becoming and stagnation
Why am I here at all?
What purpose could I possibly serve when I am unable to make a concrete decision about my existence?
I am the wind; in the sense that I am there and not, and people will notice my absence
I have never subscribed to the idea that though my life is worthless to me, it is the same to others
I understand the impact, I have always understood the impact
I suppose I was banking on others “getting over it” as I have been told many times before that I should
There are no refunds and there are no outgoing or incoming flights
Mar 23
Mar 23, 2026 at 4:06 AM UTC
I am in limbo
I am in an airport, where the only food is a turkey sandwich; lathered in mayo, which I love, but coincidentally is also lathered in mustard, which I don't care for
An airport in which the only drink is coffee; it isn't sweet nor is it bitter nor does it taste of coffee at all
My flight has been delayed and there are no other flights available
As I am wandering the airport, and the gate keeps getting changed
I am stuck, and I am lonely
I will be eviscerated if I dare step foot outside; I've seen it happen
I have been here for a millennium
I've never been scared of death, so where does the fear come from now?
I am in pain
I feel desperate
Why am I hesitant now?
What is the point of fear or hesitation?
I cannot be saved,
Nor can I be ******
There is no hope; there are no alternatives to reality
I, of course, know why I am hesitant
I have people that I care too much about
Nothing stalls one like the fear of disappointing people one loves
But, am I a person?
What am I?
Whatever I am, I wish I wasn't
My cease of existence and the pursuit of that ideal has been halted
I've seen my loved ones smile and laugh far too often to let it be an “easy” decision
I wish I was able to make a clear choice
Yet, I hover
I walk the delicate line of being alive and ceasing to be
I walk the line of becoming and stagnation
Why am I here at all?
What purpose could I possibly serve when I am unable to make a concrete decision about my existence?
I am the wind; in the sense that I am there and not, and people will notice my absence
I have never subscribed to the idea that though my life is worthless to me, it is the same to others
I understand the impact, I have always understood the impact
I suppose I was banking on others “getting over it” as I have been told many times before that I should
There are no refunds and there are no outgoing or incoming flights
This is a cowardly way of saying I don't want to die and I don't know how to exist
