Sun blazes through the sheer blinds of my cold bedroom. Breakfast comes in a plate of toast, butter, & fruit. Lukewarm coffee sits inside a pot. Phone comes alive with news & follow-ups & tags & requests. To-do lists shape the pages of my desk diary. I rest with eyes glued still on the blue halo of a screen, vicariously living in friends’ trips & coffee dates & meetings & playlists. Lover carves out time to ask about my headspace. Father tells me he’s boarded a plane. Mother says she’s bringing milk tea home. Siblings share a terrible joke. This is what living is and my heart bursts. This is all mine to have & hold. How can a body withstand this?
