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  • I feel so outside myself.
    An observer, as if for the past year I've been watching
    waiting
    like double-dutch
    carefully timing my chance to jump back in.
    It's always next weekend.
    Next week
    Next Tuesday
    Okay, after the Christmas party
    Birthday party
    That thing for sure
    One more Sunday
    I'll do it on Sunday
    I'm going to miss my chance -
    I'll wake up one morning and it will be too late
    I'll blink myself into the life I was always afraid I'd have
    The one I foolishly thought I was living.
    The one I really deserve.
    I'll think back to this time I came so close.
    Before I shit the bed.
    The residual idea of who I used to be, slowly fading into the peeling wallpaper
    Echos in a room
    Without the energy to even rearrange the furniture
    or change a light bulb.
    Or care.
    What have I done?
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