surfaced. (dear you, pt. 8)

there's a seam in the chair in my living room, where items are lost forever. 

keys. coins. chips. all sorts.  

stuck, buried, lost. usually to be forgotten.  

But when I least expect it, 

when im so desperate to find those things that I need,

they have a way of turning back up in the place I least expect them. 

---- 

there's a place somewhere far off, 

somewhere deep in the trenches of my mind, 

where I've buried so much over the years. 

thoughts. lies. fears.  

they're placed there for a reason. 

when something is dead, you bury it. and those are all things I've desired to bury in order to gain a sense of normalcy, to be healthy and to move into the joy and warmth that the truth has to offer. 

But when I least expect it,

when I'm so desperate to find those things that I need, 

whats buried has a way of turning back up in the places I least expected them.  

------ 

dear you, 

bury it and leave it buried.  

bricks. (dear you, pt. 7)

every thought

every word

every night

every mess

every mea

every drive

every game

every rest

doesn't feel like rest. 

the weights have been removed, 

but the weight has yet to be lifted.  

the goal is in sight,

the future is bright. but so is the past. 

and they're blinding me from truly comprehending the present.  

and so it feels dark again. and it's 5am again. and again. and again.  

weight.  

it's heavier when you're not expecting it.  

a box could contain feathers or bricks and to us it's as light as a feather until we lift it. and we weren't expecting bricks and so we underprepared and we just threw our back out.  

But so much of my experiences taught me to prepare for bricks, so why did I expect feathers? call it optimism. call it ignorance. 

 //

dear you, 

you've been carrying bricks for way too long. and that box will give way soon.  

I also want to know what it's like to feel weightlessness;

not as an absolving of duty, but a refreshing exercise in letting go and trusting. maybe if we walk away from the bricks, we won't have to come back to them. because the funny thing about bricks is that it's way more difficult for them to follow you. and they're easier to transport one at a time. 

let's put the bricks down for a while. 

everything ends someday, pt. 3

do I feel peace, or do I feel restless? 

because I'm in the in between now,

and I'm not sure if I like it.  

i might. calm is refreshing. but it's so unfamiliar that I'm already feeling aimless. 

and my head keeps turning to thoughts of what could be, and I like that. but then when my head turns to thoughts of what could be, I'm not sure if I like it.

Everything is good. But is anything great?  

Can I find something to be passionate about? to obsess over?  to lose sleep over? to fall in love with?

dear you, 

everything ends someday. and it's a good thing.

but I need something to begin now.

everything ends someday, pt. 2

everything ends someday, 

and there are ways we are supposed to handle that.  

but if step one is recognition , and somewhere in there is acceptance and support and moving on, I think I missed the message because to me I'm still wondering where the "understanding" comes in.  

everything ends someday. 

four somedays, to be exact.  

and I don't know how to handle that.  

dear you, pt. 6 (everything ends someday)

dear you, 

everything ends someday,

and some things much quicker than others.  

some end just as soon as they start, 

leaving us wondering if it's worth it to start in the first place.  

and why wouldn't we wonder? end is associated with loss. with pain, separation, finality.

finality.  

why is that so bad? 

why can't we view endings not as loss, but as completion?

because the endings of my favorite songs remind me that resolution is so beautiful.  

that there is power in closure.  

maybe we need more things to begin, so that we can end them.  

maybe we need to write more happy endings. maybe we need to appreciate the painful endings, and mold them into our own twisted kind of art.

maybe the places life has taken you have lead you down a path like mine, where a fear of the future and unknown leaves you stuck in the past, never truly embracing here and now.  

dear you, 

everything ends someday.  

start something worth ending.