Distinctly Unfamiliar

Maybe we can only exist within cups and cups of iced black coffee.

I don't dare to dream of another lifetime with our existence merging, not just dancing around each other. However much I yearn for impossibilities to exist within the realm of possibilities, I understand now that they will remain as they have been regardless of my efforts. I understand that my actions are futile to the grand outcome. I understand that I can only taste life in bits, never swallowing anything in full measure.

Sometimes I berate myself for thinking the opposite is true. Perhaps, after consuming years-worth of fictions, I was led to believe that these impossibilities would exist at the right time and space. But I misunderstood. Everything arrived in fragments and pieces that will never turn into a permanent whole. Everything that has come can never be holy. Everything that could have been, I am not worthy of.

This feeling is distinctly familiar, yet at the same time heavily not so.