I used to be a witch

I used to be a lot of things.

Now, I am nothing, like the dust under your feet, both stardust.
Do we have a purpose?

Am I getting off track? Is it so bad?
Being Nothing? Getting off track?

When you have been reduced to dust, the only thing you have to look forward to is everything. When you have been stripped bare, that is the place where true creation comes from. I get to create myself.

If I don’t die first.

Yes, I used to be a witch. I was good as casting spells. I got my first boyfriend that way.

I used to believe in past lives and other dimensions. I had visited both.
Now I find out that rather than being a man in my last life, I must be trans in this life. Unrealized and underdeveloped, of course. Instead of visiting other dimensions, I must have mental illness.

I used to believe in magic; unicorns exist somewhere; the universe is a benevolent, conscious being. I used to believe we could save our planet from ourselves.

I used to believe that I have an important purpose here on earth. An angel told my mother. That purpose pulled me through life.

Now that thread has been cut. Now I have dissolved. Now I am the dust under your feet.

Star dust.

I have 22 drafts sitting unpublished. Therefore, I am publishing this one without putting it in a draft, without editing it so you like it. I figure it’s okay to publish prose, straight from the heart.

What should I write about next?