All this positive, change direction, new fresh interesting lives just waiting on the cusp for me. All this uplifting verbology, all these bright and inspiring images, all these hopes and truths and great shining moments just waiting for me…
All this and what I want is what doesn’t actually exist.
Just like before.
The life you want to live, you don’t get to. And the life you have is the one you never wanted.
And all the positivity, the knowing things get better, the having seen it happen is all worthless in the face of the crushing defeat you still, inevitably feel. As if all this were on you. As if you were the failure, the one who wasn’t worth it or wasn’t good enough or just didn’t pull through this time.
As if you were the one biking, walking, running, moving away.
As if it were all you orchestrating, manipulating, creating.
Either way, those happy words and happy thoughts and happy hopes don’t feel right right now. Don’t feel real right now. Aren’t tangible.
Just a broken bass line without a melody to make a song.
So, what – really – now?
Nothing at all, it seems.
Just a broken secret without a plan to make it a life.