two non-existent halves of a whole that don't line up, don't add up, don't fit together

sometimes
i wonder what being whole is. 

i am a convoluted disaster
of bandaids and panic

that drinks too much tea
and talks too much
and laughs too shrilly
and doesn't try enough
and isn't good with family
and runs away constantly. 

i don't sleep enough, 
instead i hype my system up on earl gray 
and toss my unwilling body 
out into the world

like i'm twisted in this relentless momentum, 
thrown forwards again and again, 
no chance for slowing down, 
nothing doing, 
i'm never going to jerk to a stop 
or pull the emergency brake. 

push the throttle a little harder, darling, 
or else the speed'll blow us off the top,
top of everything we've ever done wrong, 

mountain of mistakes, 
this is what i call home. 

i watch my breath curl into 
small, opaque clouds in the cold air, 
lungs heaving and spine struggling

but that's okay

i'm not okay

and one day, 
everything's going to go too fast, 
and for once, i'm going to 
f a l l. 

The End

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