Disenchanted Blue

Unraveled now, at the last strand of myself, I am stunned, and I am annoyed at my own reflection. Is it possible that one human can be the entire Universe? Of course I look around and see that clearly I am not the chair that I am sitting on. I am not the cigarette that I am sneaking as I type this. I am not the cracked iPhone screen through which I see the internet, and I certainly am not the mess I made of my life.
All of this shit and I am none of it, yet I experience this world, and this time that I am spending, as if I am the sole center of it all.
Sparks of rage can awaken something too hideous to truly be the center of it. Shimmers of light so beautiful reveal love so sweet I cannot be the reason for its existence.
Yet here I am, an aftermath of another love combustion, eyes red from tears and defiance. My nostrils sticky with salt from unwelcome tears. My cheeks wet with spineless little tears. Helpless, shameless, destructive, stupid tears.
Center of the universe. Me. Ya.

It is a strange and unfair sequence of reactions that we insist on, in matters of love.
To be continued and truly this one is a good one .