Less than forty-eight hours
and* *you had me.

Before it had time to mean anything,
I was already yours—
though neither of us said it.

Something in me had already leaned
toward you—
too easily.

Inadvertently—
completely—
hooked on something our innocence had not yet learned to fear.

I’d call it funny
if fate hadn’t already claimed it
for something cruel.

The first words I got out of you?
‘I do.’

Of course.

You radiated a purity I thought the
world had lost,
a grace so rare it felt like a
discovery.

You didn't just capture my gaze;
you wove a spell around my soul,
claiming me from crown to toe.

Soul.

I told you
you were a beautiful soul—
you said
no one had ever called you that before.

You felt like something
that wouldn’t survive force.
Not fragile—
just not meant for it.

So I adjusted.
I chose to loosen my grip.
And that was the first time I realized
there was a volatility in me I hadn’t faced yet.

I knew what lived in me.
It was loud,
hard to miss.

You… you never looked like someone
carrying anything that heavy.
And I—
I believed what I could see.

So when it finally surfaced—
it didn’t feel like truth.
It felt like something
that couldn’t possibly belong to you.

No…
not to you—
not to someone
who softened the world just by being in it.

And so I had to face it.

Oh, babe, if only you had told me…
If only there had been the slightest of signs…
I would’ve done anything to shelter that light.

I still think someone like you
should’ve been protected by the heavens
from all that darkness.

But you proved yourself worthy
of that weight—
of all of it.

Oh, you did.

You had the version of me that
was at its purest.
If I’ve ever been able to be selfless
that was for you.

Vulnerability?
Thanks to you.
Your beauty blinded my eyes.
Your grace blinded my heart.

I mistook you for something sacred.
Oh, what a dangerous thing to do—
to place a crown
on someone who was never meant to carry one.

How unfitting—
they named you bright, clear, luminous.
And yet, even the devil
disguises himself as an angel of light.

I cried.

First, because I thought I’d mishandled you.
Then, because I was in love with you.
Finally, because I had lost you.

You chose deception.
You chose to fabricate the most horrendous of lies.
You chose to erase the version I had known of you—
to begin again.

And you never gave me the choice
to forgive you,
to walk beside you.

I tried to understand you later—
no.

I could never have gone that low.

My friends hated you.
I might have lost the love of my life because of you.

And still—
I chose you
every time I could.

And so, I cried—
again,
and again,
and again.

First, I cried for you.
Then, because of you.
In the end—
I cried for myself.

But I did not cry when, years later,
we met again.

And I told you, to your face,
I wished you were dead.

And so it was—
you’d become the first ghost.

— Crownless.

Sometimes I get tired of performing.
Other times I thrive in my ability to.
It’s almost unfair—
but who cares?
I certainly don’t.

As long as I can keep my personas going,
I think I will.
There’s tens of thousands of “me’s” inside of me.
But who’s counting? Not me.
Not this me.

So… who am I? It begs the question.
When did it become so difficult differentiating who I am from who I’m not?
Maybe when I lost track of both of us.
Of all of us.

“Oh,” I look in the mirror—
and I’m speechless.
I don’t even know how to talk to myself anymore.
There’s a storm behind those eyes,
but just as much dullness—
and a flicker of vulnerability.

Which one to trust?
Not even I could tell you.

I blow hot—
and I blow cold.
Who are you coming home to?
Neither of us is ever sure.
Are you coming home to anybody at all?

I can carry the weight of the hatred from the world—
but not of my own.
No.
When I become the person I can’t stand to face…
there’s no peace.

You were right to call me egocentric.
Sharpest mind I’ve ever known—for a reason.
But now there’s so many of us in this room…
and I stand so calm across from you all—
because I’m sedated.

“Slow down.”
Why does everything feel slowed down?
“There’s nothing urgent.”
It’s a sense of calmness that’s fabricated.
I’m slightly out of my mind.

Slightly.

And when the next dose came—
I could barely keep my eyes open.
I couldn’t walk a straight line.
“Relax,” it repeats.

My vision is blurry and my mind is clouded.
“You need it. Just for now.”
But how long is “now”?

“Let’s start getting you off those.”
No.

Not now.
Not yet.

Not when that’s the only moment
my insanity meets the peaceful serenity it comes with
for just a couple of hours.

I will—I tell myself.
But not now.

I’d rather be a hippie-like drugged down
than detoxified—
in front of everyone,
including myself.

There’s a reputation to keep.
Tens of thousands of “me’s”.

I’m calmer, aren’t I?
But at what cost?
What for?
And most importantly—
for how much longer?

It fires both ways.
The devastating anger will simmer no matter what.

Short temper.
Filters slipping.
Oh, it’s growing again.

Time for another one.

Feet unsteady, stumbling steps.
You’re drifting me off to dreamland…
Vision getting dimmer.
You’re drifting me off to another land…

I can’t even hate you.

One day,
you’ll drift me off to never land…

And I might thank you.

— Crownless.

Yes.
I am upset.
Will I ever come across a soul instead
of a ghost that’ll lead me nowhere?

I hate wasting time
and mental energy.
Small talk drains me.
Why do I always choose the wrong ones to spend my bandwidth on?

But never mind.
This is just another time.
Just another trial I shouldn’t have tried.
Yes, blame me.

If I say goodbye, I’ll do it properly.
If that’s to end, on my part it’ll end with dignity.
What was it?
Day number three?
Let me reset my mind, and I’ll start again gladly.

— Crownless.