Hello, old friend.

For some reason my thoughts, sober or otherwise, always return to you.
Lately I’ve felt I’m chasing after the unattainable.
I accumulate and accumulate and never feel fulfilled, never satisfied.
It’s frightening to be aware of what you’re lacking but be completely helpless to occupy that internal void.
It’s as if I’m struggling for oxygen in an airless room.
There’s a mask in the corner that will replenish me but only at the expense of all else.
And so I struggle on, searching for other means of endurance.
And as fruitless as my attempts surely are, I must persevere, for what other option is left?

I don't swallow my words, no, I swallow whole sentences.
I'll never let you know how deeply wounded I was left.