I sometimes wish I was like you.
Free and untethered to any conscience.
Void of external consequences.
Churning the internal maelstrom into my favour at will.
Scratching at the seams of a reality that everyone accepts but doesn’t realise.
Then I wouldn’t have the chance to feel so hopeless about it.
I wouldn’t trace my steps back into the past.
I wouldn’t be wearing the collar.
I wouldn’t be the one trapped in a cage probing the air outside it for clues or pleasures.
I wouldn’t be on the sidelines watching the world **** away the last of its common sense.
I would be part of a greater machine enamouring, loss, pity, and guilt, in its various forms until all that remains is a mortal shell of a person without the heart or stomach for it.