Dear Ignorance.

Dear Ignorance,
I drew gashes on my skin to reflect the inner me, in hope that someone would help to give these thoughts a rest. Sometimes when I come back I don’t know if I am even mine or if I had been left with what is yours. I worry that you had more than me, that they loved you more freely. He once told me that he hated you and I cried because he asked me to say goodbye. How could we let us go? But the longer that I tried, the closer the walls got. Confined. Surrounded by thick clear skin. Skin that contains you– necessary for life– wearing at the seams.
I yearn for a time I knew. A time I will long for. How could we let us go?
I dug deep into my scalp to try to reach the mad. I look back to that empty shape and wonder what things I filled it with, what happened when we slipped past one another. I wonder what you did with our time, my space.
My generation sleeps. Our body is now unshapely and wet and I am an old witness filled with stories.