delicate

as time ticks on and I grow more confident in my writing, (albeit manufactured,)
I find myself wanting to share these pickings with the people around me.

“hey look… I wrote this”
“please handle with care” is what I want to say,
“I changed that sentence 9 times, don’t skim over it”

and in that limbo state of waiting for a reaction,
I feel as if everything I had written that far would amount to nothing,
dust so fine that the slightest breeze would blow it away.

how fragile my world has become.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

today is day 221 of the year, there are 146 days remaining of 2022.