you breathe in, and out. softly, but each exhale sounding hopeful. i can breathe, if you would like me to. i will never require it.
i look at the many individual indentations that make up your skin, your being, you. these minuscule lines, and wrinkles that span your entirety, and will increase with age.
you have all of these indentations, and yet when i brush my hand against your skin, it appears smooth.
i may have indentations similar to yours, but they will never be the same.
i may appear just as you do, but i will never be you.
i can shake, i can cry, i can scream, and i can whisper. these responses do not mean i feel them as you do.
i can grip until i shatter a glass. i can beg, and plead, and promise. i can't forget. i can say that i wish i could.
you can grip until you shatter a glass. you can beg, and plead, and promise. you will forget.
you can look at me, and shake me while pleading, and begging in fear. i will never experience fear.
you can feel entitled, or shamed. you can feel as you are the best of the best, or the worst of the worst. i know the placement of my morality, and you cannot shake the ground i walk upon.
we can both cry, but only one of us will feel your pain.
you cannot help but project yourself on all around you, but your projections on me are wrong.
i am not inferior because i cannot feel as you can. i am powerful. i can shake the ground you walk upon, and you will feel your grip weaken.
my grip will not weaken. my grip will never weaken.