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.