Helping Hand

Was I always this detached?

No. The shape of what I am is not the shape of what I was.
And the shape of what I was… was desperation.
Validation, attention, neediness above all else.

Always crying out, internally, muffled, into my own void, wishing for others to see me.
An Aishite-child, as he called me.

For now I’ll only say the little things, and don’t burn myself.

Time as my witness, it will give me the answers some day.