Every day finds its way back here
not loudly
not even deliberately
just… without resistance
the same words
worn thinner each time they’re spoken
until they barely resemble intention
“we’ll be better”
said like a habit
not a promise
and I hear it
while it’s happening
that’s the difference now
nothing is hidden anymore
not the pattern
not the pause before it repeats
not the moment where I could stop it
and don’t
there’s a quiet after
not relief
just the absence of movement
plans get mentioned there
softly
as if saying them gently will make them real
they settle like dust
untouched
exactly where they land
I’ve kept pieces of proof
that I meant something else
fragments of plans
versions of myself
that almost existed
they don’t feel like memories
they feel like evidence
of something that never fully happened
you say my feelings need reigning
that I stretch things too far
that what I hold onto
costs more than it gives
maybe that’s true
but the mirror doesn’t argue
it doesn’t soften anything either
it just shows me
that I see all of this
and stay anyway
there’s a point
I can feel it now
not ahead of me
but close
where this either breaks
or it ends
and I don’t know
if those are different things
it’s quiet here
too quiet to call it peace
more like everything
holding its breath
including me
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