the existential wobble when i decide i quit this grind

i recently walked into what someone labeled 'the apocalypse' at a place called... oh wait, i can feel it in my bones - the air smells like regret and slightly burnt toast. people there seem to forget how much time passes between their smile and their exit, like they’re all just paparazzi documenting the near-abandonment of something familiar. i keep wondering if i’m chasing a phantom version of myself or if i’m just letting go of a grip that’s too strong. the silence after i try to talk about it feels like a void that hums back at me, vibrating under my ribs. maybe i’m overreacting, or maybe i’m just finally realizing how much i’ve built on shaky foundations. either way, i keep moving toward the uncertainty, even if it hurts. i’m not sure if this is courage or resignation, but either way, i can’t stay stuck here forever.

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