u/Cinamnnster

Buried like the God of sunlight,
Sold for scraps at the market,
Pieces spread on the table,
Humbled,
Missing the point,
Unstable,
Clinging to my death rattle,
Hoped for a rabble, settled for dust.

Tired of whispering at the pit,
Hearing my bones grinding,
Devoid of a lifeline,
Smiling,
Through dead eyes,
Yearning,
Tipped the scales with my bleeding hand.

Cradled by the scent of absence,
Flayed by the weight of silence,
Growing out of my ribcage
Content,
With a clear mind,
Empty,
Tearing out my prosthetic life.

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https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1thshp3/comment/ompkw44/?context=3
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1ths5jw/comment/omq1c3m/?context=3

I’ve been feeling like that for some time now. I don’t know where she is, but I can tell you where I haven’t found her.

I certainly haven’t found her in dating apps. I think she got tired of them, or maybe she never tried them in the first place. Maybe she also thinks you can’t really make up your mind about someone based on a highly curated little profile.

I also haven’t found her in any of my hobbies. I try to dedicate myself to the things I love, so it’s not like I’m searching for her there, but she hasn’t popped up.

Finally, I haven’t seen her around town, but I believe she is. A man can dream, right?

That’s me, by the way. I’m a man who dreams. The scientifically inclined among you might point out that all men who have ever existed can claim as much. To you, I’ll bring up Charcot-Wilbrand syndrome, but I’ll still appreciate your candor.

The literary inclined might point out that this world might as well be the dream of a butterfly. To you, I’m sad to confide that the times have grown dark, and butterflies don’t dream anymore.

Maybe you can appreciate both points of view. Maybe you’re someone who’s still trying to make sense of this mess, but you’re still open to the dream like reality of it.

I know this runs the risk of looking like an exercise in creative writing at best and a stream of consciousness at worst, but I want to reassure you, this is still personal. And since it is, I should speak about myself in more concrete terms.

Not that I think the immediate details of my life necessarily describe me better than the earlier paragraphs, but still.

I’m a man, and I’m from Canada. Physically, I do my best to live up to the image of the lumberjack, I love flannel, and I enjoy having a beard. Contrary to what my writing style might suggest, people say I’m funny, and I laugh like a dork or an oaf. I think I’m a very happy person. I haven’t always had the easiest life, but it taught me to be positive. I have an odd work history, and I’ve dabbled in many fields.

My friends often say they feel supported by me. I try my best to be a constant presence, and if I can’t offer support, I at least aim for understanding. I like listening to people’s problems and chiming in. I used to do so professionally. Some things you can’t unbecome.

I have a bunch of hobbies. I love reading, but I’m an incredibly picky reader. I know that’s not something to brag about, and I’m certainly not proud of it, it just is what it is.

I just got back to playing the acoustic guitar. I’m incredibly rusty, and it’ll take time. But it’s a gentle reminder not to let go of the things you love. And also that nothing is ever truly lost.

I like to paint 3D prints, mostly sea related things, like fish. I love board games, and I play video games too, though not as often as I used to. Occasionally I go hiking. Not often, but when I do, it’s always an adventure. I want to get into bouldering soon.

Who am I looking for?

I think if you’ve read this far, you can answer that question yourself. If you think it could be you, please reach out.

If not, thank you for reading anyway, I hope you have a nice day.