existing in my room
Elena Zhang the knock on my door every morning for breakfast: four steamed buns, two red bean, two sesame, yet all stuffed with sugar it's just another day, so how bad could it be? white rice and greens for lunch in my bedroom all day, all night is downstairs the same as i remember? that one monday when my mom allowed me to go out to the backyard and spend time with the dog that day, the sky was clear blue no clouds in the sky it had been two weeks since i was last outside the breeze caressed my face i breathed slowly, living once again i'm caught in a cycle, an endless loop of existence there's a difference between existing and living existing is waking up to no purpose, planning the day as you go existing is being lost in the scattered world of your thoughts, ready to quit existing is the hopelessness in the beeps of the monitor, fading slowly in a hospital bed living is the person you wake up for every morning the reason you hold your head up high living is quiet nights near crowded squares, peaceful dinners of lush greens and sweet, savory delights living is sunset-stained sands and firefly fields trapping a light in the palm of your hand while i was trapped within four walls, stuck between these three doors, existing, wanting life, but not in the same way as before, the living room was another world and i was barred from it downstairs, my dad coughed i heard the sound of his stomach emptying its contents it was only temporary, but maybe he was just existing too |