Here's to you and me.
Some times it's easier to forget than others. All of the ones who left, every urge to fight back, to follow when they ran. All the love that I poured into thoughts, poetry, dreams, only to have them thrown away later into a bin marked Wasted Days. So many lonely nights spattered with what I thought would surely be released in time.
Instead, I was let go. I was left with the eternal, plaguing, unanswerable question: wasn't I good enough? Was my heart too eager to reach out, my body not eager enough, my mind stuck in some place where eagerness wasn't factor? I loved, and to me, that was enough. It fed me, fueled my hope. And still, they were gone so quickly. What was real to me, what was my life, wasn't distinguishable from my fantasies. I stumbled blindly, and they walked ahead confidently, calmly, knowing what waited. I was blind in loved, and they saw what was simple and effortless: an end.
But here's the thing I realized today, with the help of some unknowingly beautiful friends. I can't keep going down. I can't keep living in the past or the pain, letting someone else's ideals surround me and leave me frozen. At some point, I have to force myself upward: thrust myself through the inner boundaries and into the freedom of the air, the brilliant, warming sunshine that is life.
All these songs about airplanes, distance, and time that echo through my memories, taint my present, and some days I fear reflect my future. I'm tired of relating to them; I'm tired of living them. I'm tired of the tears, hot and course, running down my face when the radio comes on. I won't let myself feel it anymore; I won't stand still. I'll move, get away. This is where I find love every morning beside me instead of miles away.
Maybe I was scared. Maybe I was only dreaming. But today, I'm taking a step forward; I'm breaking apart from this. I'm defining myself as a woman, a lover, a friend, a writer. I'm becoming something I've always wanted to be: free. Remaining who I was is giving up. Being who I am is standing strong. And I'm strong enough.
Instead, I was let go. I was left with the eternal, plaguing, unanswerable question: wasn't I good enough? Was my heart too eager to reach out, my body not eager enough, my mind stuck in some place where eagerness wasn't factor? I loved, and to me, that was enough. It fed me, fueled my hope. And still, they were gone so quickly. What was real to me, what was my life, wasn't distinguishable from my fantasies. I stumbled blindly, and they walked ahead confidently, calmly, knowing what waited. I was blind in loved, and they saw what was simple and effortless: an end.
But here's the thing I realized today, with the help of some unknowingly beautiful friends. I can't keep going down. I can't keep living in the past or the pain, letting someone else's ideals surround me and leave me frozen. At some point, I have to force myself upward: thrust myself through the inner boundaries and into the freedom of the air, the brilliant, warming sunshine that is life.
All these songs about airplanes, distance, and time that echo through my memories, taint my present, and some days I fear reflect my future. I'm tired of relating to them; I'm tired of living them. I'm tired of the tears, hot and course, running down my face when the radio comes on. I won't let myself feel it anymore; I won't stand still. I'll move, get away. This is where I find love every morning beside me instead of miles away.
Maybe I was scared. Maybe I was only dreaming. But today, I'm taking a step forward; I'm breaking apart from this. I'm defining myself as a woman, a lover, a friend, a writer. I'm becoming something I've always wanted to be: free. Remaining who I was is giving up. Being who I am is standing strong. And I'm strong enough.