The point? What is it?
What’s the point of eating when you can’t taste? What’s the point of love when you’re scared of it? What’s the point of life when you can’t live it?
As I sit in my room, I wonder if i will ever get out. Trapped inside for days on top of months, tallying the days with gum wrappers, filled with chewed goop in the middle, but it had been so long that I hadn’t even remembered if i put that burst of flavor on my taste buds. I had forgotten the flavor, the texture, it’s like I totally blocked that memory out. A gum blackout. “What’s the point of gum if you don’t have teeth?” I said as I put a fresh piece of Spearmint between the roof of my mouth and my tongue. I swallowed it.