This or That

Those moments you feel invisible 

or like you'll never love again

that stuff of the past was a lie.

The brain leads us to so many unproven conclusions.

That existential dread, conundrums.

It isn't pleasant to sit through it alone,

but it's all we have. All I have.

Can't stuff it down, cover it up

date it away or run it through.

The dread, the dread, this fucking dread.

Lack of judgement makes it more tolerable,

tempering expectations with realness

and honest reflection.

What he does, what you do,

not the same and not hinged.

No regrets, no regurts.

This cute stranger just told me New York ruined him

and in that share I feel a reminder.

The appeal, the perspective, the studies

of what makes you magnetic and true.

Down-to-earth and healthy and approachable,

but not entertaining malarkey.

Someone who likes their life,

has ambition and interests and stands upright.

Maybe I'm not quite there yet, but the path is at times so clear.

The profiles only show a glimpse of who we are,

what we think or hope ourselves to be.

I wrote what I wrote.

I'll be glad for group and chatting and feeling seen, even a bit.

Even this, is only a glimpse.

Sharing and typing out what I think myself to be,

dreams and fears and words that fit right.

I watched some Riverdale and Buffy,

they're all so beautiful, but also troubled

and fighting and solving mysteries.

Shows and people and places and apps

that share another piece,

shine a light on things to feel important.

I don't know what I'm saying, but it feels nice to type.

Even if I never posted this and was the only one to read.

It's good. It's great. To write and think and let it run free.

No regurts.