I…Looking back to see ahead
“ We start losing people. That’s a human experience, and you suddenly realize that the human experience is going to be your experience. When that starts to happen to you, it is quite stunning.”
I’ve been meaning to write for months, years, hours, but when I sit down to do so, the task becomes unattainable. It’s like a defense mechanism kicks into place; a short in the electricity line burns out. I cast myself into the front line without a weapon. I am my own worst enemy. I fight the urge to glance at my phone, to text no one in particular. Picturing myself on the field, I yearn for a quick glimpse, just to see what lies behind me, but I know I need to focus; to stay focused. I think of you and begin to fall deep, deep down. Taking a dive and losing my way once again.
Help me, I’m lost.
“Look ahead," you say.
The thoughts begin to swirl, the water rises. My breath gets short, slipping into the riptide, pulling me further away. My mind officially enters a state of overwhelm.
“Keep your head up, take your gaze forward.”
I hear you, but when I look out across to the horizon, I can’t help but feel that everything is so far away. How will I ever be able to express all that I wish to when the sun keeps dipping below before I’ve even had time to swim to it?
I worry.
I worry about being vulnerable. I worry that I will leave this world with so many words left unsaid. I worry that I will be a failure. I worry that I am grasping onto some thing that is impossible. I worry about judgment. I worry about losing the memories too soon. I worry about how quickly life can change, how quickly breath can be taken away, how quickly hearts can stop beating .
“Just go from the beginning,” you whisper.
“The tides rise and fall. And so will you. Forget about logic, hold hands with intuition instead. She’ll save you.”