A trace of nothing

I mean—who cares? Isn’t that the lingo of the world now? You reach beyond who you were, aching to become more than your beginning. But then—circumstances speak. Timing twists. Everything aligns… just not for you— only enough to press against your chest like quiet distress. Have you ever searched for a way out? Gathered every clear chance you could find, hands ready, steady— only to grasp it and feel nothing there? Just light. Just illusion. One moment, you’re stitching yourself whole again, piece by fragile piece— and the next… you’re unraveling. Softly. Completely.