the feeling does not exchange pleasantries

Oct. 27th, 2025

The feeling does not exchange pleasantries. It does not knock on the door. It does not ask for invitation. It barges in, it stares me down like a wolf eyes a deer. It asks, “what has become of you?”

“Where are you?”

“How did you get here?”

“Do you exist? Do you still recall a time when you did? When did you disappear? When did you allow cowardice to creep up your leg, make its way to your hands? When did you lose the fight? When did you give it up? When did you surrender yourself to the sands, to the oceans, to the winds? Was it peaceful, allowing them to take you? Did it torment you as you watched your life go on relentlessly without you? Did it feel like watching a movie or did it feel as if you were dying, the years flashing before your eyes? Are you still dazed as you stand for yourself once again? Or is the crushing weight of yourself dissolving as you allow the oceans to take you once more? Does it torment you? That the very fog you were trying to escape is now your home?”

“When you inhale the nicotine, do you hear your father’s begging as an echo? Does it please you to sacrifice yourself in the name of no one? Does that do it? Does it quench it? The thirst to succumb?”