I can’t help it if I know what I want and I know that I want
I told myself if I wanted something I would work for it or ask for it. I would not sit and simmer.
Yet here I sit. Is it as simple as replacing one action with another? One feeling for another? One unit for another? I want to reach; I want to stretch, but I feel stiff and immobile. Do you remember when 22 was old?
I’m not old. That’s the thing. But every new opportunity has this way about it and it reminds me that I’m not old, but I am wise. Separate from the rest in some form. I am lonely. Belonging or not…mostly not, I am still lonely. What will fill that space? What will fill it up? The sun is fading, the days get shorter and shorter and I’m not sure what my excuse will be in another month. I don’t want an excuse. I don’t want to wonder. I don’t want to feel without or be left feeling what if. I don’t want to not. I want to. My words fill me up until I realize how empty they are. When it counts. Let’s sit together again.
But then…I don’t know. Then I take a moment and it doesn’t count. It doesn’t matter. I’ve lost it.