because it's almost like i've forgotten how to die a thousand deaths every day like i used to. it's almost like i can't keep living in fear. it's almost like i don't want to leave and i don't want to stay and the foyer would be nice enough except for the fact that it's disappeared. the only mediums that exist are sad and angry and bitter, and all of that is directed at me.
the cards are stacked upside down and inside one of them is my heart. gunshots are fired through each of them, and i can't spin red, i can't, because then i'm done for. the only true decisions are made by the rules and fate. it's flipping a coin to gamble; flipping a coin to decide whether the foyer is the true place for me. because now there is a foyer, but it's bare, and it's empty. i'm not even sure i'll fit.
slap me because it's almost like i can't remember where the foyer is. and everyone says they're going there— i can hear them, even if i can't follow them. i'm done tapping on walls covered in cards with my everything inside to find a place where i might not even belong, where i might not even fit. because now i know the foyer is there. i know that it is no longer empty and it is no longer bare. it is brimming, teeming over.
almost is too close to call. i live in that almost, in that endless transition between transitions. call it the foyer, call it the near-exit-entrance. call it leaving and staying at the same time, lingering and loitering in places that hardly exist. i'm waiting for someone to come and call me home and then maybe i'll get out of the almost.
maybe it'll finally be final.