Do you ever feel like you’re running around in the dark, trying to find your way based off of a distant memory. At some moments you barely notice that you’re breathing but at others panting for air. It’s silent, awkwardly so but at the same time there’s an echo of your own thoughts drowning out the noise of nothing.
Hi, it’s me.
I can’t exactly piece together why it got so dark in the first place… or maybe I can but I just don’t want to admit it. Maybe it’s tough to digest the fact that your own actions lead you to a place of cold defeat even though there was never a competing opponent.
But no, it’s easier to play the blame game so this is where I’m at and I feel stuck where I am. There’s no telling when the memory will become a bright reality, a picturesque view, a motion picture that I want to rewatch over and over. But again if I’m honest, it’s not a memory, it’s a promise.
It’s a promise that morphed into a memory because it’s been so long since I’ve heard the promise as clear as day. It’s a faint flicker of hope that reminds me that I know better. And I do. It’s probably the only thing I truly know, without any hesitation. It’s the promise.
The promise that keeps me wondering with my head on straight, the promise the allows me to robotically move to do what I need to do for survival sake.
The promise.
A glimpse of a smile forms in my mind , a real one unlike the mouth movements I project daily. Why do I like to be alone, uninterrupted, silent? Because in those moments I can hear the promise ever so slightly. The faint whisper of love echoing in the darkness that I actually don’t think was ever lit.
The promise.
When? Oh but a mystery, as it all is, why would I be worthy to know the full picture when it’s so far out of my reach. Entitled, forgetful, privileged. Maybe that’s true or maybe I’ve disassociated so many times that I can’t even tell when I’m in the dark and when I’ve reached my destination.
The memory, the promise, the love.
But it’s all worth it for the love don’t you think?