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You have finally become too overwhelmed,
a little too exhausted,
a bit disoriented.

You’ve been flicked onto a planet
into a class,
into a desk,
with room
for a picture of your significant other,
who is becoming less significant by the second.

Later,
you will storm out of your home.
The bottom of your shoes will slap the pavement
harder than you’ve hit existence.

You’ll walk fast,
your knees’ll pop,
and you won’t stop yourself
until the night is a black wall,
ninety degrees in front of you
on this 90-degree summer night.
Your toe will hit the edge
of the last square of sidewalk.

You will see you have nothing
but space.

Look.
Your city behind you is buzzing,
and your home just a few blocks away.
Your desperate steps
black holes in the pavement–
warm orange from dingy street lamps.

You will look forward to find,
that the end of the world is in front of you.

You will turn around and tenderly walk home.