maybe it's me

maybe it’s me

I don’t know

the words

they live in my head

yelling, shouting, screaming

to come out.

to live in the universe

the universe that tears to pieces

my every positivity to leave only

shreds of who I once was…

or maybe

maybe …

maybe it’s me.

maybe it’s me who can’t cope

with the potent immensity of the present tense

or

any practical reaction to any average series of events

or

even the stupendous notion of facing another day

in this expanse of nothing

and everything

but mostly it’s the silence

and its terrifying deafening.

sometimes the world seems like too much

and not enough

or maybe

just maybe

maybe

it’s me who’s not enough

or too much.

and my intense, constant, incessant need for attention

and love.

or is it attention or love?

really either will do.

sometimes it doesn’t even seem to matter who from.

because the vastness of the universe is so lonely.

because you is just a placeholder for a shared experience confirming all the feelings we’re both feeling together as appropriate.

because it confirms me as adequate.

because it’s much less scary to be lonely but not alone.

or maybe alone but not lonely.

really either will do.

or maybe

just maybe

maybe

it’s me after all.

maybe

after all

it’s me.