music poetry WRITING

connection

connection

Connection.

I’m less than great at it, pushing people away with great success. My weapon of choice is words.

Although the obsession is nearly healed, on occasion I still look them up, the people no longer in my life.

If someone were to ask what I get from it, I’d try to explain how important it was for me to imprint my memories with some form of external validation that the people I knew actually existed.

Without proof that they’re alive, or that they once lived, everything becomes illusion – all my passions and beliefs. My love.

If I can’t find them I spiral, begin to wonder who I loved, if I loved, or when and where.

It’s why I looked for my father with such insistence. I needed to prove to myself I had one.

Then I needed to prove to myself I didn’t.

Connection.

I’m less than great at it, but for you, only you – I keep trying.

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