#nothingisimportant

somewhere i exist.  it is a statement i say to myself, at times, watching my small pixelated picture that confuses me, horrifies me.  staring at texts and wondering—  did these really happen?  am i really here? 

life is a fickle creature,  and i dance drearily in between both happiness and sadness, beauty and destruction.  one moment, i am a sea of stretching to be seen—  of screams and shouts and stormy seas.  the next, i am nothing but calm— quiet and collected, no curiosity or qualms.  the struggle to outpace people whose voices work, whose voices loud and light and leap, through deafening decibels and screeching sounds, i reconcile with myself.  i tell myself, i exist.

i tell myself that there is more to me than how many people i’ve spoken too that day, how many times i stuttered or stammered, how many times i’ve felt like punching the wall. 

i’ve tried to look at my life through a polaroid picture— through joy or grief, living life with a smile or with tightly pressed lips.

i am neither. i am nothing.  and yet—