#fragmentedself
I wake up and the edges of myself feel thin, as if I might fray and drift away at any moment. The world is close and far at the same time, like I’m looking through a window smeared with yesterday’s fingerprints. I remember things and then forget them again, small moments slipping out of my hands before I even know they were mine. Faces arrive, familiar but distant, voices echoing like they belong to someone else, laughter sounding like a sound I once knew but can’t claim. Time moves around me in crooked lines, and I stumble through days that feel borrowed, trying to find solid ground in a mind that refuses to hold still. There are sparks that cut through the fog—a song, a smell, a fleeting thought—but they vanish before I can hold them, leaving only the memory of something I never fully touched. And through it all, I keep moving, keep breathing, pretending the gaps don’t exist, even as I feel myself split into fragments, chasing pieces I can’t name, lost in the weight of a body and mind that sometimes feel not entirely my own.
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 1:01 PM UTC
In my eyes—wide shut—
I rearrange the scattered pieces, trying
to build a better version of myself from
what once felt like a creature. I frame
my thoughts to get a clearer picture,
decorating the past in shades that turn
away from mistakes, and painting the
rest with the soft light of my achievements.
Time drifts like dust—
blown apart in fragments. And I wonder
if anyone has ever truly been put together
perfectly. Even the greatest successors were
once victims, parts of themselves quietly missing.
To be complete is to keep finding yourself
again—to return, again and again, to the
reason you began. I stay committed to the
foundation of a dream, building it day by
day from these few, fragile pieces.
Jun 26, 2025
Jun 26, 2025 at 12:24 PM UTC