Can you lose what’s already gone?

I feel like I’m losing something
a little more every day.

On some nights,
when I can’t sleep,
it creeps in quietly.
The fear.

The more time passes,
the further everything drifts,
the closer I feel to losing it again.

Even when there’s nothing left.

I don’t know why letting go
of something that isn’t here
still feels like a risk.

Maybe I’m scared
that I’ll keep doing this.
Or that I’m the reason
this keeps repeating.

I’m scared of my own patterns.
Scared of the kind of future
I can’t even picture.

I don’t know what’s supposed
to be there anymore.

And so I sit in the dark.
Not knowing what to pray for.

The other nights,
I try to shut myself up.

Stop.

Enough.

You’re being too much again.

Is this the kind of feeling
that should’ve never
been allowed to speak?

Because my head hurts
from fighting,
thinking,
judging,
listening,
blaming,
trying to be kind
to myself,
in circles.

All at once.