isolation: revelations of frail self

Spoiler

time to finally finish this thread :D

xiv. (post-napo)

fragility of self
i want to stop feeling so fragile, like anything could break me
i write lines upon lines, searching for meaning in something
like if i scribble enough words i might find the world
& find that i have a place in it, as a thing of value
& so i revere others like i wish to be cared for
place them on such high pedestals i can no longer see them
& they can't see me, as their pillars are cracking
i am left at the bottom even after they fall past me
& out of my life, still wishing for something
i can never find, for i don't even know it
—if i was ever meant to mean anything at all

xv. (post-napo)

A Pretense of the Grid
& i can't know everything
can't presume to be connected
to everything all at no time
pretending the lack of wires
gives me more of a link to a grid
unnamed by others; really i'm imagining it
it's a false connection
trying for comfort, but it miscarries
leading to more seeking, unending
& time can't lead me there
or anywhere; i need to stop
this quest for incessant knowing
the focus of my life on the lives of others
relative to my own; the grid
is not working for me
only my false pretenses
—but no one knows of those
abandoned in use the most
an island with a decrepit structure
i've always wished to visit
& pretend to see in my dreams

this is pouring out of me
& i should tip myself over
probably, a sand castle mold full of seawater
as i pretend to commune with the ocean
like it's my friend, like
we don't hardly ever speak
—the same with me & the bookshelf,
pretending to know its stories, have read
all its books but i could never
& it knows this
& so we sit in quiet discomfort
& i wonder if it's ever held my poems

(i go over everything,
obsessively like everything else—
i try to use your eyes as if
you'd ever come across my mind on these pages
—i've never been you, as much
as that concept petrifies me &
the idea of not/knowing-truly knowing
/pulled off the grid forever makes
me feel even worse
—who even are you?; are
you a person i know
i could never know you
never know myself; it's
such a foreign concept
impossible to imagine, even/especially
for a disconnected soul)

—has the grid failed me?
or have i failed myself?
i always say i've failed you;
it's all i write about lately
though i could sit with you
mix minds, mix stories
mix together on the grid
—like a mix up could fix us
—do you think fixing's the word?
maybe i should find the world instead

(maybe i should find you instead)

maybe i should find myself instead