There's a word that means worn.
That means tired and unraveling, just barely holding on --
and you curl your arms around yourself
hide your face in your hands
your trembling body in corners of locked bathrooms
so you face the world intact.
Your roommate said -
she was talking about surviving,
about last year,
before the two of you even knew each other existed,
about hard thing that wrecked your lives,
that made last year ****, and she said -
"But even at the worst parts,
I think some part of me knew
that I would make it through this."
And you hesitated a second or two longer
than you should have, before replying,
"It wasn't like that for me."
You think, in a way, that you were beyond threadbare, last year.
You were falling to pieces and assisting in your own self-destruction
- and so maybe you had people, but -
you didn't know how to recover from that,
didn't even know if you could,
if you would ever be able to.
And it was hard, and work,
but you dragged yourself up to a state
where you could
stand on your own two feet.
Where you built up a coat, again,
against shattering,
against haphazardly breaking.
But what's to stop the wind from pushing?
What's to stop your threads unraveling,
one by one, til all that's left is dust?
It's different, this year.
This year isn't just a matter of your reactions -
it's all the things outside of your control
stacking up and falling over.
It's a jenga tower whose blocks call to you in connection,
whose placements you had no part in whatsoever.
It's watching, and waiting, and hoping.
But all hope runs out eventually.
Your fall is more graceful, this year.
It's slower, gentler, and almost silent.
You are so tired of people you know dying:
one after another, after another, after another.
You were sadness in rage and emptiness, this time last year.
This year, you are just sad,
in a permeating fashion.
It's not -- it isn't -- you are used to it,
You just are tired of that,
Miss people, alive people and barely hanging on people,
don't let yourself think about the others
- you're scared where that will take you -
(you can pretend to be heartless pretty well, at this point)
You miss not having the sadness with you, constantly,
(and hey, at least this year you remember what that's like)
but --
It's an I can live with it kind of habit, this year -
you are being pulled apart, but
you are keeping yourself together.
you are keeping yourself together, still.