ruthless. 1_1

Why is it that when something takes time, I assume I’m doing it wrong?

The chances are slim. Almost none.
A road so long.
“Never-ending.” I’m inclined to say.

And yes, I’m tired and yearn to see the end.
Frightened at what I may behold.

Will it be wholesome?
Will it be true?
Will it speak to likes of you?

I cannot bear the thought of translating my own words.
“Do you understand?” I beg you.

Please come with me to face the odds.

I fear that I will forget everything important.

Will I remember you when I’m old?

I hope my judgements do not cloud the truth.

Was it labelled correctly?

Did I save it in the right place?

I worry I have been careless with my memories.

I often wonder if this thing between us is love.

You claim it is, but I am certain you do not know me.

You do not listen when I explain how I am misrepresented in your thoughts.

It is my fault that the two do not match.

So, what is it then that you see as love?

It is healing to witness my friends become parents.

To see my younger self in their children.

To watch the interaction play out so differently to my own.

Each one entirely unique, no two ever the same.

Carefully explaining the world around them as best they can.

None of it makes sense.

Life is too overwhelmingly confusing for simple sentences.

Yet, one message seems resoundingly clear.

We’re all the same. We’re all the same. We’re all the same.

Window watching with a hot coffee on a misty morning.
Rain runs slowly from the gutter outside.

Fresh fish on her face, the dog tends to her bum.
Sighing softly after a job well done.

The matter moves freely in my lungs.
“I’m having a tall day,” I say with a wink to my rimy reflection.

Another year, nearly at its close.
It does not store significance anymore.

I’m done counting time.

Though we’ve wandered far and wide.
On opposite paths. In different directions.
The longing never stopped.

We’ll catch up to each other one day.

Won’t we?

The versions of me are many.
I have eleven. I say to myself, quickly counting in my head.
Their faces flash across my mind.
In the wake of untold broken open-hearted tearful conversations.
When all was said and done, each one more friend than foe.
Privileged to know them.
Excited to meet the rest.
How many more can I add to the list?
Relishing with glee, all those that will arrive.
Heart light, eyes wide.
An intention I never expected my future to hold.
What a gift it is to grow.

I don’t want to simply show up for the milestones and the photos.

I wish to experience life with the people I love.

Isn’t that what it’s all about?

To share the meandering journey.

Please do not misunderstand my tone, I ask this with kindness.

“Why did you do it?”

You knew it would hurt.