Here, this small little bubble I exist in.
Safe.
Longing for familiarity.
Hurt is home and I lust to be broken.
Someone once told me about a fig tree.
I long for one that reaches and chooses my branch.
With this crippled mind—
Still, I am yet to be chosen.
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 9:42 PM UTC
Here, this small little bubble I exist in.
Safe.
Longing for familiarity.
Hurt is home and I lust to be broken.
Someone once told me about a fig tree.
I long for one that reaches and chooses my branch.
With this crippled mind—
Still, I am yet to be chosen.
