I’ve nowhere to sleep, no dreams to swing from, no stars to wish on. I’ve warm nights of the sun still burning in the black of which used to sooth me. The cool breeze, almost nonexistent, slipping through the gaps in the blinds. The blinds covered in a dust so thick I could write my name on every slat.
I’ve nowhere to sleep, not in the night, nor in the day. There are no lullabies or daydreams to fall away to. No magical moments of peace, of a blank slate before my mind. There is no rest, not in the down hours of morning meditation or in the evening hours before I lay my head to wonder my mind.
I thought I would be gone by now, off again on another trip, another run, another try at making my life as I think it should be and not of this check to check slow crawl to death. I thought I would be writer by now, one of merit and smarts, one published in a book with binding and hardcover. I thought my life would take a turn by now and I would know love and have been able to keep it… I thought for sure my time had come.
I thought I paid my dues, sowed my seeds, gave of myself, all enough to earn the freedom of my self. I thought for sure I would be something more for myself. I thought I would be wise and strong and rich and pretty, I thought, I thought I would be someone, someone more than who I am to myself. I thought I was done with childish games and whimsy, with living in a past that has done nothing but left me, as all pasts should do. Yet I hang on to it like it’s the lifeline of my life.
I thought success was measured in bushels and gallons, tangible treats from those who surrounded me. I thought raising my daughter was all I had to in this lifetime, I thought all I had to do was help the still suffering addict. I thought and thought and thought till there was nothing left to think, and I was drained of life.
I don’t know if I will ever be ever again, if my amount will ever stack as high as it did, if I will know love one more time. When the summer is over, I will leave again, come fall when the leaf’s start to change into their beautiful reds and oranges and golds and browns. When the nights air starts to become a little more crisp, I will go more time.
I’ve weeded my garden and found it to be empty now that all the dead is gone. I’ve found I have not planted much in the past few years, I’ve tied very few ribbons on the tree, I’ve fallen short in so many areas. I struggled to stay alive and find meaning, battled the ego and fought with greed. I searched out something more than more and found an emptiness I wasn’t expecting. Now nothing seems to be of much importance. Not time, not money, not love. Yet here I am living for all of them wondering if I will get more.
My road has never been a simple one, it’s always been complex and multicolored, disorderly and dysfunctional. I never knew simple or understood it’s meaning. I’ve always known too much and in turn it has made me crazy and quite dumb. If I could only just stop asking the questions maybe I could stay still a little bit longer, maybe the quiet would finally come to me.
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