As I open the door, I take a deep breath.
Letting it out slowly, I attempt to ease the ever-present ache in my back.
Or was that my neck?
Shaking my head, I start walking.
The day is gray and the snow is melting.
I glare at the sky willing it to action – anything would be better
than this nondescript, indecisive day.
But even if it were sunny,
I would balefully resent its nerve at shining in my eyes.
At least then I could hide my disgust behind sunglasses.
I smile politely at a passing acquaintance.
Snow would be nice.
Maybe its stark, cold sting could freeze the angry, boiling blood
running through my veins.
Why can’t I be happy?
I’m just not used to being here.
It’ll get better.
What if it doesn’t?
There’s always something – some explanation for why
the grief is temporary.
“It’s just a phase; she’ll grow out of it.”
It must be “that time” of the month again.
It’s just difficult making the transition from one place to the next.
What part of life isn’t a transition?
I’d like to know.
Do I ever get to rest and remain the same?
Once you learn something, you are somehow changed by that knowledge.
You learn something new everyday.
The world is shrinking daily, a result of growth and change.
Worlds are colliding, overlapping; the barriers protecting me
from life are disintegrating.
Nothing remains the same except change itself.
Good old reliable change.
How do you find a permanent identity even as you are creating and
editing the original?
People think I’m changing; I feel I’m becoming more me.
Finally things are starting to feel congruent inside.
But that doesn’t lend logic to my actions.
The clouds keep changing form.
That was an elephant, but now it more of a tiara.
The wind shifts again.
Am I changing or am I remaining the same while the world
continues on its axis?
A parallel behind the rest of the world, my movements are slightly
out of sync.
It’s really just a question of inertia.
Objects at rest tend to stay at rest until acted upon to change.
The rest of the world keeps spinning, moving at a frightful speed.
I don’t want to join that dance; I get motion sickness too easily.
The longer I remain inactive, the more pressures close in on me
forcing a change.
Study harder. Walk faster. Think seriously. Find a job.
Pay off your debt. Trust love. Take chances. Share the car.
Help your family. Be positive. Don’t cause pain.
What about the pain?
Did I cause that?
Any course of action seems wrong in some way.
Either way, I lose.
I can be me or I can answer the world’s call.
Used to be able to do both.
Now a sacrifice is demanded.
Will it be the bishop or the knight?
I can’t stop living.
I refuse to admit defeat.