Are you like me? Do you give too much, too quickly? Do you throw yourself blindly at the world, thinking it will always open its arms up to you?
Do you feel the slow turning beneath your feet, the shifting plates? Do you sense the streams of fissures roaring underneath like unrequited love, desperate for somewhere to go?
Do you feel the wind pulling back and forth, constricting and expanding, a perpetual cycle as vicious as it is tender, like when it hurts you to breathe, but it’s the only thing that sustains you.
Are you like me? Do you live with the dial turned up at full volume? Can you taste the salt of the sea when you’re miles inland and the ocean feels like a fractured memory?
Are you like me? Are you alive or just pretending?