everywhere we go it’s numbers that control us the number in our bank account the number on our test the number on our scale everywhere we go we let that number decide for us the number of likes our number of friends why should a number decided if we’re happy?
Back and forth we've made rounds with this unrequited love. Shifting blames while stroking egos. I think it's time we let this go before we drive each other out of our heads.
© Sonia Ettyang November 2018
Wrote this while listening to (Hooverphonic- mad about you orchestra)
Last week, if I were flooring, I would be carpet.
Like in the way of, how easy it is to get stained. how hard it is to clean once it is. how it just never seems to quite "fit" with the rest of the interior, "especially not in this house". But mainly it's in the way of how it is walked on. Their feet drag through it, causing the slow damage, with little care for something that requires such high of maintenance. Depression is like a carpet. I know why people rip it up now. I envy those who can.
I lay awake for hours Thinking of you. . . . Some nights I fall asleep quickly Dreaming of you.
— The End —