I sit in silence frequently, tears hitting my eyes.
Looking at a world with multiple filters at once.
Seeing Home all around you in a grey scale all around you. Color swarming and filling itself in atop a lazy smile, a crooked look, even a shrug.
Weed is the only thing that helps me float above the pain.
The shards of your past become literal when they leave physical scars on my body.
Beginning to feel a bit like a voodoo doll, all stitched up and absurd.
Watching mother's dance with their children as my arms ache from the absence of mine.
The best way I can describe surviving the multiverse is immortality not translating into invulnerability. A form of emotional arthritis begins to set in. Everything from your heart to your spine to the heels of your feet begins to ache.
Slowly, nothing begins to feel real. Cracks in the structure of how our planes of existence overlap each other. The seams between them become nigh on impossible to gauge, as they slip by underfoot like a hiccup or a breeze.
Learning to conceal emotion on my facial expressions, that was a difficult lesson to learn. Many a fracture I myself have caused by saying the right thing at the wrong moment.
Deadpanning has become my set of features. A bit of dark humor thrown in here and there.
I find myself in a place where Sanctuary does not exist. Where there exists little but escaping the pain of daily life.
An under the radar job. Walking to work.
Going by a different name.
Keeping my mouth shut for fear of who might recognize me here.
Wondering when the fractures will widen beneath my feet and reality will change again.