Shallow.

Like cereal. You pour just enough to fill half and you pour milk just enough to drown the crunchies down. You indulge and your spoon reaches the bottom. Funny, it seems hollow.

Because you’re missing something. You can’t drown anything. They float in the liquid and they cling ‘til they get soggy. You pour some more for a sight of even just one sinking. But everything stares at you in the face.

And the moment you feel the emptiness there is beneath the surface, you swallow everything over it just so you could see it’s true. And it’s true. And you know. But you’ve been hoping to see something more than the truth.

In exasperation, you drown your own self. You dwell in what’s real because you think that’s the way to deal with it. You stay far from the light when you thought what’s true would illuminate things better left in the dark. You forget you have a choice. You decide where to dwell in. You decide where to view things from. You should’ve realised where you’re at is separated from what you thought there is to know. Because what you really have to learn is where to stand.

And then you could throw all your stupid metaphors away.