i was able to clean off the kitchen table a few days ago.

seeing the table finally clear again i started to cry a bit, for a moment the house had order, the house was a home with a purpose, everything was clear and i was a functioning housewife.

then i started to clean the table with a rag, and that clear view i had shattered into bloody shards.

who was i cleaning the table for? its just me, and i dont even eat in the kitchen, and why was i crying? had it really been that long since my life had order? to where even a glimpse of order was enough to break me? lastly why was i acting like i had a partner, a family, im alone, i know that, im so fucking alone.

im a housewife with no family. a theater with no actors. a record with no player. neat to have, but pointless.

but what can a theater do? its just a theater, it cant change its circumstance, its trapped in a pointless life.

though, its also *just* a theater, it doesnt care that its pointless, it'll contiune to stand tall till nature takes its course.