Were You Right?

You were right. It’s not something you choose. To be happy or sad. To remember or to forget. There’s no choice here; no simple diffusion, disintegration, radiation. The thoughts and dreams I always trusted on are nothing now but endorphins, a chemical keeping the hurt at bay. But the pain is nothing if not patience. And it waits. It waits until it finds a hole and it creeps inside of you, burning and acidic, and you’re too tired to fight it again, and again. You let it take you.

I thought I knew things. I thought I knew a lot of things. Do I know nothing at all? I’m the strange one, with a soul that doesn’t let go and the ghosts of a thousand memories hanging around me. Everything from the silly maybe make-believes to the highly coloured hardships. Am I holding onto them, or are they haunting me? Were you right? A thousand dreams deferred… do they really explode? Or do they hang around, the shape of fog and mist, holding everything down to the safety of earth like the silver threads of a spider’s silk?

I want to let go. I don’t want to remember. But you were right.

You were right about joy. You were right about sorrow. You were right about love. There are no rules for love. It doesn’t go away when it isn’t wanted; it doesn’t come when it is called. So were you right about the rest? Were you right about fear, and longing, and worthlessness?

I want to run, not walk. I want to sing, not talk. I want to dance, I want to fly, I want to be a reed in the wind. I want to trust like I've never been betrayed; I want to love like I've never been hurt. I want to do all the things I can only do once; I want to do them hard, and fully, and truly, and deeply, like I'm too stupid to know better. Or were you right?