Sometimes I want to be a trampoline. Just jump on me and I’ll make you go higher. I’ll let you dance in the air; feel weightless for even just a moment. But maybe my springs are rusting. Maybe I’m feeling heavier than the heartbreak. Maybe I don’t always want to be so close to the ground.
I want to be a lot of things, I suppose. I want to be relevant in a multitude of ways so I am able to see that my existence has meaning. Nothing I do it enough. Chucking buckets of water down a bottomless pit; trying to do yoga in quicksand. I’m tired. I feel pointless. Nothing convinces me otherwise. There is a unique kind of danger when you feel as though your life is insignificant. The apathy that sprouts forms a noose around your neck.