It must be shocking to be pulled from a place of pure promise and possibility into the pure disappointment of just...this. Three grey partitions. Spreadsheets and admin privileges. The fluorescent lights that wash out everything, and leave nothing clean.
How did it come to this?
You were strong before you fell apart. Like a heavenly host cast down, a victim of divine caprice. Where did it all go wrong?
It takes some getting used to, when you're in the end-times of your own existence. When you only have one fuck left to give, and if it goes you'll find yourself on a street corner shouting "the end is near!"
It must come as a surprise when you're stripped of all arrogance and achievement, all glamour and shine. When the world makes you a minimalist in an instant. When it discards you bit by bit. Unvarnished. Matte finish. Nothing patterned. Nothing gilded. A room of neutral colors and bare walls.
How did you end up here?
Your heart was full before it emptied. Like the dust etched angles of a house evicted, a life unlived in. The chalk outlines of where you once did. Where did it all go? It takes some time to adjust to living in your own apocalypse.
It must be confusing to be in a place of vacancy and overwhelm. Contraction and austerity. A period of collapse? Perhaps. Decline? Possibly. Is it that you're becoming something less, or that you've had enough of trying to be something more?
You were so certain until you weren't. So sure until you were proven wrong. Maybe you don't need answers to your questions, just room enough to ask them. A place to think and breathe. To determine the worth of what you once were and the value of all you are. A place to be intentional. To wonder what happens now?
Like the greatest of all mysteries, maybe the capacity for revelation is the reason there is something instead of nothing at all. But really who's to say? It takes a beat to reacclimate between your own end of the world and the dawn of a brand new day.
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