…we all get better?
Maybe I haven’t been trying hard enough.
or… maybe dismantling is just that. If I were to let go… I’d never come back …never be able to function again …because I’d be left with nothing.
In that vein, maybe I have tried. I have tried just as hard as I am supposed to. I, in my own way, atleast, listened. and, possibly, lost everything that I am. Its an adorable thought, I am aware. One of young, wide-eyed artists living a fantastical version of reality. One that I had adopted and glued myself to; nails boring in, clenching on for dear life… for years. But I suppose, at some point, something dislodged itself. And this notion (of who I am) floated away with it. But I was still holding on to something that was a familiar shell of something that was once something else; something solid.
Over the years, my hands progressively loosened their grip because, I suppose that part of me knew. At some point, I let go just enough.
But maybe “just enough” is too much.
Maybe that is how it happened.
Because these days, I begin to remember then feel that something is terribly wrong.
The Buzzing. It has returned. But it’s different somehow. Altered. Time, place and events have rendered it exactly the opposite of what it once was. I don’t like what it has become. I don’t like it.
I’ve forgotten to preserve the only thing that’s important to and about me.
…all in an effort to function.
as a human being.
I’m not saying that I haven’t grown and evolved in this process… it’s just this subcutaneous feeling that I may have done something catastrophically irreversible.
And maybe that is the trade-off.
…so now then?