I want to give in,

I want to cancel all of my appointments and just rot.

I don't know if I deserve it or not but it feels like I do and I guess maybe that's the point.

I exist between worlds and sometimes I fear that the lines have blurred so much that I do not have a corporeal form at all anymore

(do you see me...?)

Like an eraser that has only half smeared the still image of myself, I am struggling to make out some of the details that are usually a bit more clear.

It does not help that those around me seek to erase my shameful between-the-pages existence entirely.