I emptied myself into the singular pursuit.
My apathy, empathy, love, hatred, passion, motivation.
Everything belonged to my one purpose; telling the tale that burned in my chest.
Now I fear I’ve given too much.
I lost Derivation while I was surrendering the rest.
The one thing I was determined to keep is gone.
Without it, I’m not even a person.
So what now? What do I do now that the worst has happened?
How long do I stay away? How long will it take to fall in love again? Until my hands itch with words burning to see life on paper?
I don’t know.
I’m starting over. From the beginning. Tell me again, Alexander.
Stay good and keep transmitting
In this human plight
I just know there must be
Something better in this life
Have I earned the right to know
Earned the right to say
Or is this just another dream
Is this just another play
I’m sitting on the edge of today
But I haven’t earned the right to stay
I’m not part of this
I never was
I’m just here to show
At least someone cared
That someone was holding on
To all of the moments shared
Do I take a humble leave
Or do I keep holding on
Hoping that I break through
To what potential we had when this began
My patience is waning
Though this is nothing new
How long can I keep waiting
Before I give up on you?
I will never know where happiness
Lies in this human life
I just know there must be
Something better for which we flight.
All of the work I do today is for her; the better me waiting at the end of this labor. A far off waif on the horizon that can be an ideal I see myself as to justify my procrastination, my lethargy. “What will be, will be,” Because it is so much more comfortable to think “destiny” has a route set for me. As if what I do or don’t do today doesn’t really affect that far off better version of me.
Sometimes, like in these moments of rumination, I am hyper aware my ideal cannot be without the work I can’t seem to put in. Other, clearer times I’m able to grasp that she will be me as I am now, because I have stagnated.
No longer bound by fear, but by inaction.
I’m going through the motions of a changing life, but not actually doing much to change it. I’m screaming loudly to avoid toiling in silence. And I am writing admissions because I need to get these words somewhere that I am accountable for them.
Even as I stand here and scream, “All I want cannot be!” there is that part of me that sees her; the other better me. The one waiting on the horizon to read carefully the harried words of the younger stranger she once was; trying to glean how she came to be where she is.
I need to do more and I need to do it now.
I need to do it alone.
Scream into the void until it starts to scream back.
Stay good and keep transmitting.