snuffed standard candle

why has life felt so numb? i have asked myself again and again, ever since that day in april when it felt like spring forgot about me.

on a hill on a campus, not too far away,

i felt the sense of division of space that occurs when our minds are molded.

stars act as time markers, our standard candles for life. i realized it felt like mine had been snuffed.

seasons are the less celestial version of those stars, yet an equator divides us.

with stars to turn to, life lies in the world of tiny details.

the way the curtain’s shadow casts darkness on what is outside.

it takes up half my brain.

the clarity that the ocean gives to those who invite it.

a school-assigned reading, ordinary and minuscule in relation to the world, couldn’t hurt to trust,

especially when noticing its lessons leads to reflection on oneself.

a skyway structure; single anchored suspension. an exhibition of humanity’s skills wrapped into one.

large, but still insignificant to our macrocosm.

what is a city, if not the collective of a thousand voices all heard at once?

sometimes that white noise breaks down until you hear each contrasting noise.

one day i want to live in a city. the largest thing i would call one thing at all.

i can’t let the idea go, feeling so stuck where i sit now.

but i must remind myself that once in the city, one may forget all trace of home. noticing this has left me feeling anxious of forgetting too, although i sit here in my room.

anything can seem peripheral in our lives if we turn our heads or bury them enough.

anything can be pivotal if we don’t.