By Lilian St. Clair-Foster, TIWP Student

Why am I here?
No, really, why?
I have nothing to gain from this except pain.
And yet, I’m always back. Back here.
Is it really that amusing?
To watch me fall apart?
Does it really entertain you that much?
To watch me stutter and fall, trying desperately to fit together two pieces of a puzzle that would have never worked in the first place?
Would it have really killed you to let me rest,
to let me sink my thoughts in the violent waves of our friendship,
even if for just a moment longer,
to let me rest my heart’s aches and pains in the volcanic hot springs your comfort is made of?
So wrong it feels like I’m burning, but the smoke blocks the color of the red flags that should have been obvious.
I looked you dead in the eyes and said “yay, a freaking parade.”
But I was unable to admit defeat so I stuck around and looked where that landed me.
Back here.