"leaves"
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leaves
i wait underwater for them, under the leaves of kelp drifting in the sea's wind. i never visibly relax; this is unquestionable. a fact of nature. they never see my face, never seem agitated, but i know their inner current rips away any semblance of identity they find. it is so brutal that the only things they have for reference are externalities. they look for accomplishment and comparison the way i need companionship and comfort. pure desperation. lacking it, despair. peace is not unwanted, but it is anathema, and would likely upset their system so deeply they'd never recover.