It should have felt like utter ecstasy that final feeling of relief. My soul being quenched after lifetimes of reincarnation. Seemingly though never quite reaching Moksha. Just as a desert always kisses the mirage of water but never tastes it. The solace of peace that I craved. My finger still lingers over the send button. Call it trigger happy, but this is sadness with a nose. Running after people trying to prove something. Trying to confirm that I was something worth missing. Someone worth loving. Bending backwards like a contortionist. Doing whatever appeases to be loved even if it was me being sacrificed. The gods were no crueler than I was to myself. I was a lamb in a lion’s den. Crawling under the feet of those who never served me. A wanderer lost in the desolate space between her mind and heart. Logic doesn’t speak love into the life that is absent. I see a hand reaching back the feeling of utter relief. My soul being quenched after lifetimes of reincarnation. Seemingly though never quite reaching moksha.