There are days,
my world feels like a film
grainy, muted, hazy at the edges —
I move through it,
chasing thoughts that slip
through the cracks,
reaching for memories
I can’t quite grasp.

And when words leave my lips,
they sound like someone else’s —
a foreign echo,
distant and disconnected.

Was I ever here?
Was any of it real?
Or am I just watching
from a place I can’t remember?

I stumble through the fog,
navigating a stream of faces
that aren’t mine.
Each step is slower,
dragging behind,
but I keep moving,
eyes wide,
trapped in a scene
that’s not written for me.

On the other side,
I expect to see clearly,
but all I find
is a blur of half-thoughts
rushing past,
fading before they settle.

Will I break through?
Or is this all I’ll ever know —
floating in the space
between real and imagined,
holding my breath
as the film rewinds once more.

Vivv