Dear... You
One day you will walk into a room and everyone will be fizzing, bubbling, effervescent. And you will flatline, over and over. And you will find your ‘in’ but you will miss it. And you will spend the next minute kicking yourself that you missed it, not realising that in that minute, you've missed further ins and are sinking deeper and deeper into the background. Into the fabric of others' conversations. Until you might as well not be there at all. Or so you think. Not yet knowing at this point that the loudest are often the loneliest.
Another day, some years before or perhaps later, you will come across people whose size will make you feel so small that you begin to make yourself even smaller. Like a vine, you will cling to the wall. And by default, your muscle memory will contract. And your body and being will take up less space as you believe - erroneously - that the bigger the being, the better.
One final day, in the not too distant future, but at no fixed point in time, you will slowly come to realise that the materials and relationships you once obsessed over do not matter. Simply, they are social constructs designed to make you feel your worst. They are insignificant. And although you cannot say that your mind is fully free, you are infinitely more happy.