in the absence of applause

You can’t measure your worth in likes, but tell that to the part of you still refreshing the page.

The machines growled and spat, relentless and cold. Torque guns barked sharp commands, while conveyor belts groaned under their eternal burden.

Forklifts darted through the chaos, nimble and predatory, their beeps sharp enough to slice through the noise.

I forced another part into place, the torque gun rattling like a beast in my hands. The repetition was a thief, stealing the feeling from my fingers, until the steel felt like nothing at all.

The factory floor, spotless and exact, hummed with its usual mechanical grind. Today, though, that order felt suffocating, like a cage pretending to be structure.

My mind slipped away. It always did.

Today, it clung to the post I’d tossed into the void last night.

People said sharing your cracks made others feel closer. That opening up was the glue, the bridge, the cure. But as the hours dragged me along, doubt chewed at me.

A slow, grinding ache, like metal tearing itself apart.