everything ends someday, pt. 5

everything ends someday,

and a little over a year later,

new things are finally beginning.

it’s a strange feeling,

because it’s just under two years later,

and so much feels similar.

new, but old.

a fresh perspective on an old pattern.

yet the old patterns never really disappear.

we just try to anticipate them and meet them head on.

we come ready to fight.

but we forget sometimes that fighting is tiring.

fighting takes strength.

fighting takes practice.

and sometimes,

it feels as if the fight is going to lead us back to the beginning again,

making us wonder if the fight is worth it.

and so when the moment arrives,

and we find ourselves asking those same questions again -

those same awful, false, dead-end questions again -

the search for answers feels like a fight that we don’t have time to battle again.

but what if,

we weren’t meant to fight?

what if what we’ve been trying to learn all along was not supposed to be the answer?

what if we were supposed to STOP asking the question?

maybe the questions are unanswered because we were never meant to ask them,

because the line of reasoning that got us here was so flawed,

so misguided,

and so evil,

that to answer it would only be an illusion.

we’re trying to solve a puzzle,

but the pieces are literally numbered.

dear you,

everything ends someday.

stop solving puzzles that aren’t there to begin with,

and maybe,

just maybe,

you can live with the promise that the numbers don’t lie.

roads. (dear you, pt. 12)

love is an art,

love is a balancing act.

as I look through pictures,

glimpses of past lives push their way out of the hole I’ve dug for them.

i’ve learned that ‘what if?’ Is a terrible question.

i’ve also found out that ‘why?’ isn’t so bad of one.

we were always told that nobody can really know why things happen the way they do.

and to an extent, i guess that’s true.

but i can’t help but ask it when i think about you.

i think ‘why?’ is a perfectly acceptable question to ask,

because while there may not always be a reason,

i think that there’s always a meaning.

there’s no reason in suffering.

there’s no glory in pain.

but there is revelation in redemption,

and there is purpose to gain.

when i look into the eyes of those i love,

and of those who love me,

i see the power that comes from believing in redemption.

 

 

dear you,

why did you do the things you’ve done?

why have you walked the road that’s clearly marked with misery and waste?

and why don’t you see the obvious exits?

on this side of earth, you haven’t permanently sealed your fate.

it’s never too late.

the songs we sing. (dear you, pt. 11)

there’s a lot in a song.

there’s so much more than notes and rhythm.

there’s a road trip.

there’s a sleepless, tired night.

there’s a sunrise, and a new day full of possibilities.

there’s a sunset, and a sense of fulfillment (or lack of).

there’s a rainy/snowy/sunny/cloudy day.

there’s a rainbow.

there’s a hurricane.

there’s the sweet scent and stench of nostalgia.

there’s a promise of new memories.

there’s shredded vocal chords as we find our voices.

there’s the rush of losing yourself, and the thrill of finding it all over again.

there’s the thought that i’m not good enough.

there’s the realization that there is one that is good enough for all of us.

there’s the pain of brokenness.

there’s the power of redemption.

 

 

dear you,

when we sing the same songs,

i realize what’s in a song,

and why the sweetest sound of all might be harmony.

you're welcome, i'm sorry. (dear you, ctd.)

why write?

it’s a question i’ve asked myself numerous times.

i still don’t know the answer to it.

there are some simple components that i agonize over, and it trips me up every time.

who is my audience?

this may be the hardest of the questions.

do i write for me? i think that i probably do.

which isn’t a wrong motivation.

you really can’t write for the sake of writing.

it is, to me, by nature a chore. it takes time. thought. effort. all things that are in short supply sometimes.

do i write for the masses? as if my words could possibly be important enough.

i think that sometimes i write for you,

(scratch that — i KNOW that i write sometimes for you),

because you need to hear these things.

or do you? why am i arrogant enough to think that you “need” anything, let alone something from me?

maybe sometimes i write FROM you,

inspired by the both the triumphant and the tragic.

my words have been my asset and my downfall. which is which? i guess that’s up to you.

i labor and agonize over my words, and have to decide if it’s worth it.

yet here i am, so here goes:

 

 

dear you,

you’re welcome, and i’m sorry.

it’s up to you to decide which of those you believe in.

nostalgia, and how to abandon nostalgia. (dear you, pt. 9)

i think that this is what it feels like to abandon nostalgia,

because the things that have passed were great,

(in fact, they were incredible),

and the people in the past were great,

(in fact, they seemed incredible),

but the memories seem tainted now.

the rush of those moments and the thrill of the nights,

now stained by stark reminders of where i took myself,

and who i tried to become.

i had it all and lost it all,

only for so many of the ones i thought i loved to become ghosts.

i think this is what it feels like to let go,

because the calls stopped as soon as better options and opportunities presented themselves,

and as soon as i didn’t have anything more to offer that you wanted.

the joy of giving myself away seems squandered now on people who didn’t seem to want to give any of themselves back.

at the end of the day, the more you allow yourself to be treated like a commodity, the more you’ll mistake that for community.

i think this is what it feels like to wake up,

desperate to rewrite the future while taking the best of the past and shaping my present reality.

it’s all so simple now when looking from a distance. it’s painfully obvious and sometimes more painful than usual. but the fight is slowly proving to be worth it.

the things that made me broken are teaching me to be whole.

and so while i miss the many things that I have lost,

i’m learning to embrace the things that i have been given in order to receive far more in the future.

it’s scary and painful and downright exhausting. but it’s a fight worth fighting every time.

 

 

dear you,

i miss you, and all of the moments we shared together; all of the laughter and tears and honesty. i wish we could have that again.

but i think this is what it feels like to finally love myself.