In my apartment, the humming fan
says “full of woe, full of woe,”
and an email notification clunks out of my phone
like a thrown shoe.
On the television, people argue
or compete. On YouTube, people apply make-up,
restore furniture,, cook. People play video games,
streaming from their homes into the dark.
I think, I’ve lost so much
of myself in the past ten years.
I’m breathing through a swath of cotton,
sitting in the dark when the sun sets.
I am not fear, exactly. Who’s
to say what is left behind?