Slowly crochet around me, inch by inch, wrapping me in soft yarn. The thin instrument clinks when it falls, and I know because it slipped from my fingers before. I pick it up and try again. I don’t know how to crochet, but there’s something comforting about the idea of surrounding myself in those simple, repetitive patterns. Each loop feels like a tiny shield. Don’t let them find me. I want to stay hidden, away from the red numbers circled on the calendar, the ones that demand attention and insist I show up. Don't let them find me. Compromise, sacrifice, just be there until you aren't here anymore. I don't think I have anymore to give. To dream to your idea of realistic, to see visions only you can see and execute. If I leaped, you’d say I jumped the wrong way. You tell me to dream within your limits, to shape my vision to fit your reality. But it’s mine because I see it clearly. I believe in it, even if you can’t. Don’t look at me with doubt; I need you to trust in what I
I am past the cravings for crunch, meat, and spice. Now, I want something soft, sweet, and gentle. I want the world's kindness to wrap around me like a warm blanket. I feel like a lost child, hoping to be found. I long to be swept up into someone's arms, someone who feels safe. In this moment, the world is good, and the thought of anything bad doesn’t cross my mind. I imagine a soft scarf wrapped around me, my knees pulled close. I want to be brought back to what I know, into arms that hold me tight, but not too tight—just enough to make sure I know I’m safe and loved. I want to be held like I’m precious, like they’ve found me after I’ve been lost for too long. I used to hate getting lost in big places like malls, but now, I long for that feeling of being found again. I crave the relief and joy in someone’s eyes when they see me and know I’m back where I belong. Softened eyes, shoulders falling, a relaxed smile, a soft crinkle and a few wrinkles. All at the mere existence.