The sky broke open yesterday while a handful of us were waiting for the bus. We laughed because there was nothing else to do but just that. Smiling and soaked, for a moment I remembered what it was like to deny defeat. (And then much like the failing light, the feeling shrank away.)
There is a handful of loose change rambling around in all of my empty spaces. All of these things sorry with potential. I can’t tell you how bad I want to be swinging for the fences, filled up with something other than worry. Can’t wait for the pitch, the swing, the crack. Eyes expectant for something miraculous....Anything other than a loss.
I am just now trying to tighten my grip.
When I’m not busy folding into myself or the swirling black hole my anxieties constantly threaten, I am quiet jokes and stammering conversation, music bursting through earbuds loud enough to hardly hear the world amble by, gazing at what's above, beside me, or just there with you (someone, anyone), lingering in the hallway before the bells sound, aching with the awareness of time.
I imagine that I might be this way forever. Always more willing to curl up inside of a moment than to watch it sputter and die.
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