people always make it sound like you figure things out early

that’s it’s all simple

that it all falls in place

that it gets easier when you near 30.

i’m still a mess

a lone tetromino

falling through the cruel vacuous infiniteness of space

spinning out of control.

a bulge of scattered wood blocks strewn upon the floor

longing for a kind hand to guide my placement

to warm my grain and build me up

seeing me as more than the sum of my parts.