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Remote
Where am I?
When did I get here?
How did I get here?
Is this place real?
Am I real?
No, I can't be real;
I am just part of the audience of the movie of my life
Not the director
Watching scenes of births, deaths, and marriages
My only reaction a sour blink
I try to pause, but there is only play
I look for rewind, but there is only fast forward
A real person would have a steady hold on their controller
They get to decide the volume of their life
Loud parties,
Filled with ecstasy and euphoria
Or rather
Quiet sit ins at cozy coffee shops
A person gets to decide the brightness of the screen
The coruscant stars that freckle the night sky
Or the grey dropping of murky snow
But me, I am afraid of the threatening buttons
My fingers, a flaking burnt orange from disuse might;
No
Will crumble from pushing them
-pushing myself
"Just try just try just try"
I fibbed to myself
Maybe my signal isn't strong enough
So I turn the channel
Click
Channel not found
Click
Channel not found
Click
You are not found
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I wrote this piece during Thanksgiving as I looked at all the conversation happening before my eyes before realizing that I was not a part of the conversation, just the spectator. I tried going on my phone to distract myself but the internet was not working so I went on my notes and started to write.