You say you think it is interesting that every chapter of my book leads to who I am today. That the chapters are written chronologically and they flow together. I lay in your bed looking at the sun slanting through the slats of the shade. Maybe you are right, maybe I have taken the time to reflect and edit the previous chapters, so that my book makes sense and I am whole. I can almost hear your brain ticking and I can feel your ribs protect your heart. You have cut the chapters out of your book and hidden them like horcruxes with different people and things. I'm glad that I feel whole and that I don't feel broken anymore.
This year was better than last year. I left someone sobbing on the floor and I decided to take care of myself. I surrounded myself with people who were good for me and I listened to my heart. I flew across the country and spent my evenings outside with smoking wood and crisp air. I edited chapters that I had left flawed. I came back to the humid sunsets and blazing pavement with fresh air in my lungs. I have taken small creatures under my wings and taught them little things. Sometimes, they have taught me little things.
I have taken my love and put it to use in places that I control. I have found my differences and put them on my sleeve and I have learned to forgive my heart for being hurt. When my voice warbles or my head is heavy from stupidity, I can run until things heal and mend. My limbs can carry me through the tunnel and my heart will pump my blood to my freezing extremities. I am not where I thought I would be, but maybe that is fine. Maybe, I am supposed to do it in a different way.
waiting for my cue.
