It’s like my body is reminding my soul I can’t have it.

I take in the scent and my soul shrieks because
it wants it so badly.
And for the first time ever,
I sneezed.

The dearest smell, the most comforting,
but distant smell made me sneeze.

And I can imagine lifetimes and universes where things work,
but why would I do that to myself?

I also can’t imagine a hole in the ground where I will lie for the rest of
forever.
Why a hole?
Why the ground?

And I find the connections in my unrequited love and my fear of death and loneliness and being alone with myself, because I realize I have no control over myself really,
and does that make me bad?
And does it make me bad that I will try, but will have no true hope
because a single seed of an apple tree won’t find it’s way down
because it doesn’t want to lie there for the rest of forever!

I will try harder in another life.
Yes, I am weak.
Yes, I know I am weak
and I am sorry.