Untitled – Courtney Olet

November 7, 2025

I find blanket comfort in words, writing, poetry, film, television —
temporary highs, a twilight zone to hold instead of presence.

I don’t think anyone actually enjoys existing.
We continue anyway — ruled by emotion or the belief that one day we will understand this part in retrospect if we don’t quit too early.

So we wait.
We fasten our masks.
We shape the smile with precision.
As if that is protection. I mean really?

We become quiet zombies —
decaying politely, invisibly, second by second —
our soft groans smothered by the mask designed to keep others comfortable.

Make sure it doesn’t crack.

or
Let it you’ll see.