I am stuck in a version of life
that used to fit like skin
but now drapes heavy
like fabric soaked in something I can’t wash out.

Every decision I made
was loud with purpose,
each one a small explosion
meant to prove I was moving,
meant to keep me upright.
But I lost track
of what I was chasing.

Now the walls lean in.
They don’t ask questions.
They press.
They stay.

And now the days
blur into each other
like sleep I can’t feel,
like time I forgot to notice,
like I’m watching everything
from somewhere far beneath myself.