Author’s Note

This poem traces the moment when disconnection stopped being temporary and started feeling structural.
At fourteen, I didn’t just feel out of place—I felt offline. Like my signal never quite reached the world I was standing in.

The language of technology felt like the closest mirror for that experience: dropped signals, endless queues, systems that never respond. This isn’t nostalgia, and it isn’t blame—it’s recognition. Naming the feeling that followed me for years before I understood what it was.

Some people search for belonging.
Some of us search for a connection that was never stable to begin with.

— Rowan Evans

Disconnected Since Fourteen
(Lost in Queue)
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I used to sit alone, lost in thoughts
of far off places—far from…
home.

I’d write about every one,
write about them in my…
poems.

The way longing bled into art,
art bled the words from my heart.
It was the truth spilling—
feeling homeless,
since I was fourteen.

Felt disconnected,
like the Wi-Fi dropped.
Mind static, dramatic,
screaming like…
dial-up.

Trying to connect
to somewhere that never answers.
Server overloaded,
lost in queue—
endless, connection loop.

I do not belong here.
Everything feels wrong here.

If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]