Choking on every interaction- please, I think it’s time to go home. It’s so cold out that you tell me you can see my breath. I don’t have the heart to tell you that ghosts started seeping through my pores and I’ve lived too many lives to count. I’m here for the taking. Watching myself grow older but I’m also still young. I’m bothered by time stealing pieces of the story and I want to go home. After all the trouble life lent me I decided not to make it harder. I’m just passing through, wallowing in monotony, but the stillness is supposed to heal you, right? I wish my friends would stay close. I wish my dog could live for the rest of my life. I wish growing older didn’t feel lonely. But I dream of my cottage on the lake. How I’ll hold myself together even if the stitches start to unravel. I’ll move on in ways that my brain resists and I’ll push through those walls until they crumble. I’ll find my home again. -AMT©️