momentary, to occur and then not occur. living, a series of moments; fragments of time that add up to nothing.

(an achievement is something momentary. so is a failure, a love, an embarrassment. a night where i felt alive, or dead.)

maybe i don't care deeply enough about it. maybe i just let everything meander alongside and away from me, keeping events and then discarding them as something else happens.

maybe i don't care about anything. all is equally remembered and instantly forgotten. some kind of coping mechanism for an eternal existential crisis. it hurts less.

now, both found and lost are unmeasured, equal standard, just as meaningless as one another.

(i am the perfectionist, setting myself up to lose and caring too much about it later. i am a self-perpetuating cycle. i have been feeding a ravenous wolf who is always starving and fighting for the scraps. i stroke my empty ego and immediately bite the hand that does it.)

everything will be lost when i die. there is no before. there is no after. there is no during; i will have no audience, and i will not have to lose anymore. at last. maybe it will be incredible.