Ephemeral.

Gabriela Roque
Sep 4, 2018 · 1 min read

I don’t really understand how I got to where I am now.

I avoid my mom, I answer to my dad (sometimes),

I talk to people, everyday,

Sometimes it matters, most times it doesn’t, really.

I look for words to ground myself and feel like me again, though most days not even my name cuts it.

Hauting for some similarity, some familiarity.

My showers are longer and hotter, everyday.

Everyday I catch myself trying to wash off the face I can no longer recognize in the mirror.

As my thoughts get clearer and clearer about everything outside,

about people,
about feelings,

my thoughts about myself get hazier and hazier,

I’m just not really sure about whoever I am at the moment,

I know it’s not whoever I was.

I can’t really shake up the creepling fear that things will stop having meaning,
and that whoever I am now, just won’t be complete as I thought I was once.

I feel uncomfortably ephemeral.