averaged

i don’t recognize my life anymore, it’s living itself

there isn’t a place i can rest my head that feels like my home —
maybe that was a concept only for childhood

~

i’m like tempered glass, i can take anything and never break,
but i feel nothing either

~

my highs and my lows have been averaged out
to a near-constant forbearance

~

i don’t know if i’m stronger for keeping it together
or stronger if i’d let myself unravel

~

it makes me happy to make you happy
but i don’t know who i am anymore
or if i should strive to be anyone at all