In the back of my mind I see you struggling, I see you streaming tears wiping them off the floor with toilet paper, I see you losing the air from your lungs with each day.
I do, I do see you, but you don't see me.
I've found the air from your lungs and i've been drifting in this fog for 17 years looking for somewhere, something, someone to call home.
You never tried to find me while really I was always in the same spot, waiting for something meaningful to hit me like a ton of bricks.
Instead, those bricks weighed me down to the bottom of the ocean and I couldn't get the ropes off my ankles before deciding to breath in the salt water.
It took a new life to swim to the sunlight and when I reached the top I was out of the fog.
Only then had you found me, soaked, broken *****, gasping for air, barely alive, and I had given up the fight.
You shook when you asked why I had hit the bottom, you asked as if that question belonged to you,
But there is a difference between us.
I can't explain the fog to someone who's not out of it, so please find where you are supposed to go.
a.n.F