thief of joy.

her and hers and mine

“suggested for you”

and it’s a name i recognised
a profile the algorithm thought i could handle

i couldn’t.

one thought of hesitation led to regret. i know better but i knew i wanted to know more.

then i was there, freely entered the endless pit i know i’ll lose myself in.

scrolling past a life that is not mine
though, feeling like it could have been

she is easy in her skin, carrying herself proudly in it.
because being seen has never cost her anything

she’s kind, kind to people, kind to animals because she knows how it feels.

the world is kind and easy on her.

she’s effortless in a way that makes me feel like effort is a flaw
like trying too hard is the reason i am not enough

her beauty is ordinary, but to me it felt extraordinary.

because not only did it get what wasn’t for me but it won over what let go of me.

so i exit back.

then the other pops up.

now they’re right next to each other, like the algorithm knew. a quiet cruelty of coincidence.

another “someone i might know”

and i know her. i know her well. i know the way she moves, the way she hurts, the way she loved in past. i know the softness she gave away, and the words that made it last.

i know the traits she gave away and never took back. one i would later learn.

i know her smile, the jokes she made, the way she could make a person hurt. and what made her hurt enough to leave. i know she still lingers in the quiet corners of the conversation. i bet she knows it too, that it’s an unspoken competition, and she won.

i live in her shadow as a punishment. like a quiet comparison i didn’t agree to
but stayed for anyway.

so i exit.

caught in between
not searching, just… finding
more versions i’ll try folding myself in.

i didn’t mean to compare
but somehow i always end up here
measuring the softness
counting the discrete flaws
and losing every time

her
and then hers
now it’s my turn.

but the routine is different for mine.

zooming in
tilting my head
searching for something redeemable
like i am a stranger i need to convince

that i am worth.

when did i become the least favourite version of myself in a world i created?

it was never about them
not really.

it was the way they exist
without questioning their place in the world they created within the people they love but letting them set the pace for mine.

i don’t want their lives. i just want the quiet of not having to compare the kind of peace
where i am not up against anyone

not even myself.

- p