no mourners; no funerals

if i was a little kitty and you were a little kitty would you touch noses with me to say hi

the underwhelming dense pang of sadness mixed with the loss of personal identity and opportunity that goes hand-in-hand when you're forced to live with your parents as someone well into their adult years lol

the loss of privacy. the absence of choice. the desire for more that's out of reach.

sorry this was supposed to say overwhelming. it gets to be too much. trying to fit your adult interests in the confined spaces of your childhood room; the emotions of your younger self piled within the crevices of this one room that you're able to express yourself in is... overwhelming and choking

not to mention the mixture of emotions, right? grateful you're not homeless. grateful your parent extends a helping hand. grateful they understand why you're not on your own. yet you're still grieving what could be. grieving the creativity you have to shelter because it's not your space to create. the experiences you must only daydream, the ones you're missing out on, because you can't bring people over. the rules you must follow, even as a grown adult with your own autonomy, because there are even older adults who want things to be in place; inherently feeling like an infant no matter what you do, no matter how much older you get. etc, etc, etc, and so on.