Blah blah blah, at 27

Blah blah blah,
At twenty-seven I thought I’d get it by now.
Thought I’d hold the key, have the wisdom somehow
To dodge the traps that love lays down.
But truth is—
I still cave to weakness when I’m alone,
Still haunted by this hollow tone
That echoes in the parts of me
No one’s managed yet to see.

It’s a loop, a cycle,
An empty space with edges sharp and spiral.

Is it something lacking in me,
That makes these women never choose me?
I know, I know—
That’s a childish thing to ask.
But it strips my soul of its mask,
Shows how immature I still can be,
How naïve I am emotionally.
And yet, that simple question shines—
Not in answers, but in signs.
It parts the fog,
Not to solve, but to invite
Even more questions into the night.

One proof of the rot in me is envy—
That ache that comes persistently
When I walk through the city of love
And couples bloom all around me.
And the fear—that’s the second sign.
The crack in my voice, time after time.
Words fall weak as they leave my lips,
And I recall that razor-sharp line:
"He who fears to speak, fears to exist."

Still, I say it, like a daily spell:
“I don’t care.”
Or at least, I try to tell myself I don’t.
I try to wear it well—
With red cheeks, quiet eyes,
Intentions tucked away in my pocket,
Head held high,
But my heart still on its knees.

And like an addict,
Today I swear I won’t fall again.
That this is the day I change,
That hunger won’t guide my steps,
That I’ll lock my heart where it can’t rebel.
But…
What if I already did?
What if I gave it life in prison
For making me suffer, for stealing control,
For sacrificing good loves, kind souls?

Or… what if I never locked it up?
Wouldn’t I find fingerprints on the walls,
Footprints down the halls?
Maybe I'd follow them, even unwilling,
With reason to search,
But no wish to work
With that reckless heart again.

Maybe the truth is—I’m tired.
Not of heartbreak,
But of having to fix the cracks again and again.

"Those feelings are normal.
And even though it hurts right now,
It doesn’t mean you were wrong to open up.
It’s always worth the try."
That’s what ChatGPT told me, anyway.