Author’s Note

There’s a specific kind of distance that’s hard to explain unless you’ve felt it.

Not absence–
but separation.

Like you’re still here, still moving, still functioning…
but you’re watching it happen from just behind your own eyes.

This piece lives in that space.

Between control and detachment. Between presence and drifting.

For a long time, I thought connection was something that could fix that feeling–pull me fully back into myself.

But that’s not really how it works.

No one can do that for you.

What they can do… is help anchor you.
Give you something steady to hold onto while you find your way back.

This piece isn’t about being saved.

It’s about realizing that even in disconnection, even in that distance–
there are still things that keep you here.

And sometimes, that’s enough.

— Rowan Evans

Right Behind My Eyes
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I stand between—
control and disassociation.
It’s like I’m right behind
my own eyes,
watching my own life
pass me by.

My body moves,
but my mind
stays still.

Just going
through the motions.

Thoughts run rampant—

One step forward,
two steps back.
One more step
for everything I lack.

From inside my mind,
I see myself retreat—
wake, eat, sleep, repeat.

But I long
for connection.

Outside,
I’m alone.
Inside,
her voice echoes.

It keeps me—
from drifting further,
from disappearing completely.

And in this struggle,
I learned one thing:

I don’t love easy—
but when I love,
I love deeply.

And this love
is the one thing
that keeps me—
from going under,
from letting
the darkness win.

Because she can’t fix me,
just like I can’t fix her.

We’re not broken—
we’re bruised.

And bruises heal.
Not by rescue,
not by repair,
but by time
and care.

And somehow—
she draws the light
from within me.

Journey into the Hexverse!

[The Voice in the Haze]
A wandering dream, a voice that feels like memory, and a moment where everything quiets just enough to be found.

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