or (it might be weird but) i want you to be happy. [working title]
so, so fleeting.
you have to keep moving, keep talking, keep working
or else they forget.
one by one.
they all forget.
“there is no break from this prison.”
that’s what he told me.
“this wonderful prison with gold walls, and silver mirrors, and admiration in the form of obsession”
i didn’t know. i don’t know. i will never know.
“they put you up on this pedestal. but the legs are made of cotton balls, and the seat is made of wood, not brick. everywhere you look is sterling silver imitating gold. fake smiles and empty words imitating soul. the windows aren’t glassed, they are just bars; bars with gaps just wide enough for tomatoes and bullets made of words and burning lights and hatred. judgement. criticism. lies. lies. lies.”
but they don’t even know you. i plead.
and he just stares back at me.
i don’t mind.
i don’t look away.
until he finally adds:
“and what makes you think you do?”