I slept and woke to form lies. Selves I had dreamed of, brought out for testing. Never without deep holes, spaces I hadn’t decided on, never would. Flimsy enough to pull adjectives from anyone adjacent.
Ten years, twelve years, seventeen asleep. I couldn’t be there, not in that current, so I chose another home. Inside, locked the door. Forgot.
I emerged a thing unknown and unknowing, too late to learn lessons. To early to survive where I’d gone.
On horizons I imagined lay ideals I’d imagined, too. Implicitly unreachable. I tried, to hurt myself, I didn’t know.
I’m so grateful for the things that leveled all of it.
Resurrection; Coming Back
It’s a skill I’m learning. I know how to speak, how to create, how to rush. I can change and I can destroy. But I’ve never built anything. This is my attempt at tangible. Sturdy. I’m making a cradle where my tired hidden self can rest.
You need to switch your definitions, at times like these.
There is no other way.
Or else you’ll fade out like a bell that rung too far in the past.