reflections in & of realities that do not exist

i suppose we all get cut up sometimes—where someone finds a weakness, previously unknown, and suddenly cracks it into a divide. where once was a whole is now discordant parts, a scratched record. the rope that binds in trust, cut to frayed ends—an invisible artery now bleeding out.

i lost someone important to me today. there’s now a new reality for me. the mirror shows a version of me in a world that is unchanged. the painting shows a version of me in a world that doesn’t exist. meanwhile, the world as i see it has one less connection to existence itself.

one should fill the voids of life with art. build a way out, to something else. i am having trouble with the idea of building a bridge to a place where nobody lives. i was told i use my sobriety as an excuse for fragility & it took everything i had to not drink after that. perhaps i really don’t understand people—perhaps this is just another example that i never will.

perhaps my years of losing connections to a bottle was just preparing me to lose the rest to time.