A small fleck of ink on your shirt.
Hardly noticeable as it gleams, still intact
You flick it off but there it is. The tiniest shadow.
And it spreads.
Wider across the landscape of your being
Tainting friendships and academics and sleep and tiny basic functions.
Then it begins to spill
Darker, faster, drips to places before you can catch it and digs roots
Stains you can't scrub off with the bottles of vodka and floods of tears.
It grows and corrodes places you didn't know existed.
Until you reach for them and find rust.
When was the last time went to the beach? You used to every week.