I found your reflection
in a buoyant flake of salt.
Stuck in the middle
of a road less traveled.
I asked questions
for which you gave me
The crisp ball of future
splashed towards me
As I tossed it into the foaming
vacuum; pummeling without remorse.
Ever wake up with a hangover from last nights sadness? Ever wake up heavy from the night before’s exclamations, tears, and resurgence of thought that came gushing out in waves of confession? I have.
On Tuesday I bought a ticket to South America for seven months. I’ve been planning this trip, talking about it, wanting it, begging for it, fighting for it, for almost a year. And now, I’m holding the next two months before I leave in my hands and suddenly I don’t want it as bad. Well…no…that’s a lie. I do, I want it with everything in my bones but what I don’t want is to leave everything I love behind. I don’t want to come back forgotten, I don’t want to see the love of my life with another girl and I don’t want to have to start a new life when I just had to for 7 months. I made everything about this trip, about me. It was my turn to have my adventure and it is. But I never considered what I could leave behind and what I couldn’t get back. I walked around so triumphant- that I am setting myself up for this big extravagant-soul-searching-journey that I became so caught up in what it meant for myself and I failed to consider what it meant for my friendships; my love life. I’m hardly scared to leave, but I’m already scared to come home. The world doesn’t stop when you are full filling your own personal endevours and I think the magnitude of that reality just came and slapped me in the face.