i get up, breathing heavily, looking at my depressed hand lines, ever-changing, ever-telling.

it felt peaceful when i was not in this world, not experiencing these experiences.

where can i run tho?, where do i find this thing known peace? i guess we’ll know.

i try to move my hand but it feels too heavy, i look around at my body—it’s all still here, but it doesn’t feel mine. things do not feel real, my head is not in the right space, it’s as if even these thoughts are not mine. it all is strange. i look at my reflection; i do not recognize this being reflected in my eyes. what happened to me? it is like the reality is replaced by the representations of it and increasingly divorced from its origins. this mimic of the real world has brushed its curtains upon me, leading me to ask: what truly exists? all i see is the disorientation and distortion.

where can i run tho?, where do i find this thing known peace? maybe in one of the realities.

i wake up unorderly, sweating, with my heartbeat fast as a rabbit. i try to recall, “no, there was no nightmare,” i say to myself as i fill the empty glass with my shaking hands. “water might help again.” i look at my ceiling, my thoughts go numb as i surrender to this temporary death.

will i wake up again? maybe. do i want to wake up again? i am not sure. i am stirred in this soup of realities i wish happened, ones which happen, ones which i want to escape from, ones i live in.

why do i try to be sad? why do i take that extra step to make myself feel worse when happiness was in reach? i had heard, “one even likes death when it spends enough time with it.”

where can i run tho?, where do i find this thing known peace? maybe death can bring me it.

i recently saw the batman by matt reeves, and it did have an effect on me, made me feel like i can just get better, just be better than what i already am, but the one holding me back is my own self, and i do not want to stay like this.

i sit in the stillness. the room feels smaller, the air thicker, as though every object conspires to press in on me, to remind me of my own insignificance. my reflection, distorted by the glass of water i hold, stares back—warped and alien, as if it too wishes to escape its confines.

peace—it feels like a foreign word, a dream i've been chasing but never quite reaching. the more i try to grasp it, the more it slips through my fingers like grains of sand, leaving only the residue of my attempts. i think about what it means to be better, to rise above the self-imposed chains that tether me to this endless spiral. but the answer, if it exists, eludes me. i try to close my eyes and breathe deeply, but even the air feels heavy, tainted with the weight of my thoughts. the world outside seems so distant, like a storybook i once read but no longer understand. people laugh, cars rush by, lives are lived. and yet here i am, stranded in a space where time feels meaningless, where existence itself seems absurd.

where can i run tho?, where do i find this thing known peace?

still, the question gnaws at me. can i do it? can i be better?

the answer doesn’t come easily. it feels buried beneath layers of inertia and doubt, obscured by the static of my mind. but somewhere, amidst the chaos, there's a faint glimmer. it isn’t peace, not yet, but the idea of it.

i tell myself it’s okay not to recognize the face in the mirror. maybe that's part of the process. to tear down what once was and rebuild. but it’s slow, agonizing, frustrating, draining, exhausting. it requires me facing the parts of myself i'd rather leave hidden in the dark corners of my consciousness. and yet, what choice do i have? to stay here, lost in the haze, is to surrender to nothingness. maybe peace isn't something i can find; but maybe something i can create, forged from the fragments of a broken self.

i glance at the empty glass on the table. it’s simple, clear, unassuming. a vessel waiting to be filled. just like me, i think. for now, i will sit in the silence, listen to the ticking clock, and take one small, trembling step forward.

where can i run? perhaps not away, but toward something new. where do i find this thing known as peace?

and maybe, i can find the strength to take on the journey.