Reverse Evolution
I took on characteristics that I did not necessarily understand but accepted with the bind trust of a child, because I was one, and in doing so, masked scars and muted the longings that initially drew me to the wounded souls I have come to know as friends. I understood their pain and yet refused to claim it as my own in order to serve their individual causes. But I wondered how on earth they knew where and how to come, how to open my doors and throw themselves on my steps and let me love them like I do. As a child I felt an innate lean towards such like-mindedness and yet had such a firm stance against what I had begun to realize in my blood.
And now, now that these blocks from which I built my composure slowly remove themselves I must deconstruct and consequently am reverting myself to the highs and lows I discouraged in them and yet somehow admired. I am breaking apart the middle ground I have made my home upon and indulging my affinity for sandcastles and snowmen, yet with the weariness associated with the knowledge of understanding my complete integration with the inevitable.
I have been here before. I have seen these things with old eyes and have been born again, a child, a blemished pallet, nursing the wounds of compatriots’ prior battles. It’s like being vaccinated and then barred from boosters. I used to be immune. I could sit in a room with the virus, dance with it, eat with it, call it, watch television with it, sleep with it and remain fully intact and then… suddenly I turn to gushing infection.