The universe in my apartment

The moments of contact are few and far between, like phone signals in a tunnel, like planets in deep space. So much, so so much of the universe is empty space and the few atoms that can connect are off in the distance. I keep chasing them but there is nothing with which to propell myself, no spring board I can jump from. Sometimes I think I'm making ground, only to realize the motion I'm witnessing is that of the entire galaxy through time. I am nothing compared to its power; I am nothing but a glich in the emptiness.

I don't even know who to call on anymore, who is listening, who is guiding me down the wrong path. I am not the universe, I only have so many years and my heart breaks as I waste more of them hiding in a basement, while I suffocate those around me. I need their affection and I break them for it. Or I used to. I don't anymore, I just turn away from those free-floating atoms outside my apartment window. They carry on conversations and go places and live their lives together, and they never wonder what's in the space inside my apartment window. What is here is mostly emptiness. It's just one single atom hiding from a universe of possibility.