there is an
occasional
solidness to
this solitude
where i forget
there is more
than obsessively
world building
and video games
in the world
moredulcettones
than just empty
tapping of my
thumbsonscreen

everything
feels obscure
and insincere
clouded by
ambitions or
secret agendas
and the less
i venture out
the more i see
noonenotices
myabsenceatall

a few months ago
i attempted sneaking
backintothecontinuity
quickly realizing
my interest was not
reciprocated so i
slunk back to solitude
craving the solidity
of knowing exactly
whereitisistand

there is a distinct
loneliness in writing
spilling secrets across
the emotional spectrum
to an irreverent silence
in never knowing if any
of those painstakingly
crafted lines struck
yet dilligently
writing the next one
knowing this is all
iwillevertrulybegoodat

my list of failures
is a love letter to not
being smart enough
to know when to give in
and my entire life
has been a cautionary tale
on wasting your potential
yet somehow magically all
the scars align into a
portraitofselfunawareness