somehow you always expect the universe to wait for you.
that the trees will stop growing and the sky will stop raining.
maybe the rivers will stop flowing or the snow will stop falling.
you wither away,
just waiting for the moment that the sky will bend to hold your hands and pull you to stand a little straighter.
you let yourself fall apart while the world moves on in hopes that it will stop.
the earth will stop spinning,
the seasons will stop changing,
people will stop leaving you behind,
wind will stop blowing away the ashes of your broken memories.
you hope against hope that the trees will weave themselves together to make you a safety blanket.
maybe the mountains will rise around you and protect you from the barrage of the outside world,
but it never does.
time goes on,
people grow older,
they grow more independent.
nothing in the universe will wait for you as you grow tired in an endless battle over your own subconscious,
an endless battle to win back the privilege to control your own life.
you find yourself lost time and time again,
wandering down an abandoned road,
caught in a sea of loneliness,
waves crashing against you as you fight to breathe and fix your life.
you suffocate with lack of authority over your own being.
your reliance on the support will be your undoing.
but still,
you blame it on those who are too busy fixing their own life to deal with your madness,
those who are already caught in their own war and let themselves suffocate to let you breathe,
leaving you behind.
a sole survivor who is waiting in line to suffocate for another,
an endless cycle of selfishness and selflessness.
