Debt, responsibilities, rent, and adulthood. They’ve robbed me off of my youth, and now I am left with an itch that’s turning into an infection, a disease of sombreness. I want to heal it. I yearn to cure it.
I long to be above the ground. I wish to see the clouds beside me. I want to feel the breeze of nature. I ache for the sand beneath my toes. I have this itch I can’t touch, and all I can think of instead is how I’d scratch it in the past.
I keep telling myself, “one day again.” And here I am, assuring myself again with “one day.”