I think she was just unaware. Unaware of everything around her: the dewy grass you weren’t supposed to run on, the steamy soup you weren’t supposed to taste, the bustling street you weren’t supposed to cross. This unawareness of hers caused many accidents, a slip, a burn, a close passing. But ultimately, I can’t comprehend why I was jealous of this. All she did was hurt. Yet there was something about this type of hurt that was palpable. It was the type of hurt everyone needed. A reminder of reality, and a reminder of time. A reminder of the feeling and pain we all become numb to every now and then. And a reminder that this ignorance of hers was not a deception of herself in this lack of knowledge, but a gift of the pain of life and suffering of reality.

I dream of simpler times,

With feelings languid, leisurely, and lazy

Dreaming is a privilege,

And so are these feelings I so yearn to obtain

So instead I dream to dream and wish that I could see

the feelings that were never lost to me

My eyes meet my gaze at the sight of myself

A person I do not recognize

A person I do not know

I look into me and try to find

The person I was

The person I knew

She blinks as I blink

She shakes her head side to side as I do

She is a reflection of me

Yet she is not

There is an emptiness in me

A vault with nothing to keep safe

A flame extinguished by this nothingness

And a life filled with this smoke

And I wonder

And wonder

Wonder

It feels all too surreal

Yet tangible and reminding

Of the consistency of being volatile

And the remorse of being freed

I trace back to this person again

Gazing beyond the ebony eyes

Beyond the imitation of myself

Only to find everything shatter

And multiply

And ruin

Into these shards I look again

Only to find my world shatter around me

And me around the world

Where this time

I do not know if I can piece back together

The past that was me

And the present that is us.