get back
How do I get back to who I was before?
How do I get back what I foolishly gave away? The contents no longer fit the case. It's like going on a trip and losing half your belongings. So empty, so wrongly light it's heavy. The weight of the missing.
I believed in good things once. It was hard even then to believe in good things. Rain had fallen steadily and rays of rare sun brought stark beams of light lacking warmth.
Never before did I truly comprehend my naivety. I thought I understood so much more than I really did. So quick was I to proclaim the actions of others as pure folly while I thus far had been exempt from such situations. I want to scream "Hypocrite!" at the girl encased in time on a sheet of shiny paper all pixels and sheen, but she is so happy, I don't have the heart. She wouldn't believe me anyway, such is the curse and joy of youth.
I am unsure of almost everything now.
What's important to me, so often seems unnoticed by others. I get hung-up on the trivial, the tiny. Or is that just the theater we all are stuck playing? Are we called by some offstage director to ignore what we really feel? Do we all ignore the elephant in the room? Are we forced to feign marvel at fleeting wisps of sideshow amusements? Are we sometimes the sideshow-the freak show-in this circus called life?
Did I love the dream more than the reality? Was I not seeing clearly?
I remember asking out loud right there in the moment if it was real? God, if you have to ask, there's your answer or at least a giant clue.
How do I get back joyous hope when its flame was so small to begin with (is that more of a question or a statement?)
I want hearts and flowers and sprinkles. I want the white snow of winter not to be cold. I want to warm and be warmed. Despite all-or even perhaps because of it-I want my life to truly, purely, beautifully matter. It doesn't have to be to the masses, just one will do. I can't force it. I can't make it. But as I live my one and only life, I hope when I take time to notice, all my hopes have happen.
