Like you, I’m addicted too.

I got distracted by my face today.

From the doubt and terror that receded within it.

Lost and juvenile, I’m perplexed by how I could’ve been so trapped like those among us.

The watchful eye, the daily flicker.

The yearning that this time my work, my words, my voice will be found.

But was I ever really living?

Caged within myself a microscopic fragment of the corner of the universe, banging desperately, continuously on the glass profusely trying to get out. But you never even realised I was there.

All along.

Disguised. Hidden by the lies that I tell myself that this is what I need to inject. That this is indeed a good thing.

But was I ever really living?

When I don’t stop to gaze at the frosted mornings beating heart gargling out from pale cloud.

When I deflect my gaze from the wholesome child running through the dew kissed grass with his playful dog.

When I stare blankly at the candlelight’s flame, flickering all just the same.

Am I scared that if I stop for a second and let the pattern of today weave it’s way reality will show me that I’ve not been living because I’m unhappy or maybe I’m not happy because I was never really living.

I’m one of you.

I’m addicted too.