☉The∿⟁∿Negotiation☉
☾gratitude∿a∿daily∿conversation☾
Do you feel that? Do you feel that? Do you feel that? ∿ The earth is humming under the floorboards, a vibration so low it rattles the marrow. We’re barely here, just ghosts clinging to the skin of a spinning rock, and we’re letting ourselves disintegrate into the static. I’m looking at the timer 𓆣 When it goes off, when the negotiation is over, are we going to be happy with what we bought? If we get more than just the flash—that quick, black strike we only think about because we’re still standing in the light—will it be worth the price?
Did you make sure today was actually yours? Was yesterday yours, or did you do it all for everyone else? 𓂀 The difference between us is that every day belongs to me. Every fucking day, good or bad, it’s my choice. I’m not doing it for the money or the status or some quiet corner to rest in. I’m not trying to fit in or get the promotion or the new car or the new house. I don’t want the old one either. I just want the view and a piece of paper I can bleed on 𓆙
You think this is poetry ✶ it’s not. It’s the low rumble of a machine out of control. We’re barely mounted to this rock, spinning through the void, and you should be giving thanks to gravity for every second it keeps you from drifting off. Thank every tiny particle that’s holding the atoms together long enough for you to read this with me ☾ We’re fucking spinning. It’s not a joke. It’s not a poem. Whatever this is, you have the choice to be something new or to just let the disintegration finish the job. You’ll say you can’t, you’ll list the reasons, but the truth is you can ☉ My friend, you can. All the other things, they’re yours. There are ways.
Being here, on this rock is absurdly improbable and totally expected at the same time, like winging a cosmic lottery~
We’re standing on a fragile miracle. We’re on a barely balanced system that flirts with chaos.
But this isn’t about you, it’s about me. As the world hums and buzzes, I’m exactly where I had to be. I etched things in stone. I gave away my piece and I made the friction—not for the fight or the fuck, but to build something out of the pile of part 𓆣 I’ve probably failed a hundred times. I know I’ve written so much I made a fool of myself. I know I fell apart, but I survived this place. Before we all turn into something else or something else or something else, stop and feel the rumble. Say thanks to it. Stop and watch it and crawl out of the machine. Give up thirty seconds to make peace with the pull of gravity, our best friend and ultimate final boss 𓂀 Because as much as you might hate it, you (and me) are lucky as fuck to be here.
☾ 𓂀 ∿ ✶ 𓆣 𓆙 ✶ 𓂀 ∿