i am always attracted to things that will destroy me in the end. sometimes it will not be obvious in the beginning. an act as innocent as picking a poem in a book of poetry. a poem that seems so distant, so far from where i am reading it, so different from the kind of life i am living. but then on a day when everything seems to fall apart, all the things that made me like the poem begin to fall into place. it is like the exact second before a glass hits the floor and shatters. one imaginary second where maybe finally life makes total sense. some people would risk anything to find out whether that one singular second exists. and if it doesn’t, well… it wouldn’t be the first time things shatter into tiny little shards.