Krystal's poem is about being trapped in a thought you can't shake. The speaker opens with a small argument: "Not my fault," they say, while others answer, "Not my mind." It sounds like blame is being passed around, and the speaker is left alone with it.
What follows is a replayed memory, or maybe an imagined one, of lying on a cold floor with no sound and no air. The speaker uses that emptiness to measure themselves against "nothingness," "space," and finally "nobody." The idea that people might step on them, mistaking them for art or a sidewalk, shows how invisible and used they feel.
The feeling is exhaustion mixed with longing. The speaker says their heart isn't attached, but their mind still is, tied to one person and one moment. The closing wish to erase everything and start over leaves a quiet, weary, lonely mood. The uneven punctuation and short, blunt lines make it feel like raw, unpolished thinking.