Time has passed. Not a lot, but enough. I no longer cry at night, at least not while awake.
I’m not broken-not yet. But I’m not whole either.

Maybe this has all been a lesson. Maybe I expected myself to learn too quickly. But that’s not the message here: the message is that we all fall down. Sometimes we can’t get back up. But maybe we can get another chance.

So I’m frozen, once again. Waiting. Hoping? My dreams are far away, tucked where they’re safe. No inner voices calling to me, wishing. They are silent now. I have made them silent. Perhaps that, in itself, is the lesson. Don’t want. Just wait.

He’ll soon reach the end of his speech, holding my world on his tongue. But I won’t listen. I’ve learned, this time. In the space of his words, I can no longer find hope.
But do I? As he finishes, prepares to speak, I lean forward, to catch his words, to make them real.

I’m such a fool.

He speaks. Calls my name.
After all this, shouldn’t I be happy?

No. All I feel is empty.
Hollow.