It sucks when your anxieties are right. I kept silent for years because my anxieties continuously warned me that saying what was on my mind wouldn't end well. It would end with someone getting hurt. Finally voicing what has kept me awake at night tore everything apart even worse than I had anticipated, and now I'm stuck between feeling I did the right thing and feeling I royally fucked everything up. On some level, I'm at peace with my decision, because it's finally off my mind. On another level, I've opened myself up for a new set issues to grapple with. And I've never been good at grappling.
But ultimately, I'm done making excuses, and I'm done living in hopes that the fantasy world of my childhood will finally reach fruition. I can't stand around anymore waiting in uncertainty. There's no way to retrieve the past. There's only the glaring reality of the present to deal with, and I will make of it what I can. I will try not to let myself continue to be weighed down by what I cannot change.
Accompanying poem:
A matter of time.
No comments:
Post a Comment