rhythmic reverie

I’m trying to remember that just showing up to life every day is enough, even when sometimes it feels like it’s everything but.

| there’s a point to all of this.

When there’s been too much weight built up in my chest by the constant battle I’m in with my mind, I feel pressured to have everything together and just “let go,” “move on” and “trust time to heal.” But I know that healing is not linear, nor is it based on a specific timeframe, and I know that these cliches don’t work for me. Especially when life, what you’ve been calling home, takes such a drastic turn that it puts your mind into a whirlwind you’ll never be able to fully comprehend.

I want to enter your whirlwind.

We all deserve to escape the sunken feeling of being trapped in a doubt house our minds can so easily place us in. Broken hearts, broken bones, broken minds — they all hurt the same, you know. I just wish it was as simple and effective as putting a cast on this to mend it whole again, but this is something that can’t be fully repaired — like a bad ankle that’ll forever cause you to limp ever so slightly anytime you dance. And I’m not ready, nor do I want to, accept that and live with the limp.

But I think you already have.

Even when the reflection of the light I’ve always known how to cast so brightly and with ease begins to look as dark as the holes it’s trying to shine through, I can’t find the means to face this with the same honesty the truth is painfully giving me. Even when the gut-wrenching feeling of what’s real isn’t comparable to how it would feel if I resorted to suppressing this, withdrawing from it and closing myself up.

Like you did to me.

I haven’t yet closed up those holes, because I still want what’s good that’s left to shine through what’s not. Maybe, eventually, I’ll spark a new light that’s so bright, it’ll remove me from limbo and help me gain back my sight.

Of us.

| it’s always been you.