You wait for someone to come into your life and tell you you’re perfect. Tell you they can’t live without you; you’re always on their mind. But when those feelings are foreign and you hear them with a meaningless ring, you panic.
You can’t believe someone’s pushing your hair back to better look into your eyes. You can’t believe they’re holding your hand, despite your nail biting habit and horribly dry skin. You can’t believe they sacrificed their Saturday night to find the shiny pieces of your shattered self. You can’t believe it, so you don’t. You run from the possibility that this time could be different.
I wish I could blame you for the mess I’ve become. I would blame you for the times I laid on my cold, wooden floors. Curled in a ball with crippling thoughts. I would blame you for the nine a.m’s you made me miss, the days in bed you made me have. For the hours spent wishing I was someone else.
I would blame you for the times I believed your lies. The times you pulled me close and kissed my forehead, promising a future in us. For showing me a sadness I didn’t know possible. A sadness I didn’t know how to survive.
I would blame you because I could forgive you before I ever forgave myself.
I wasn’t ready to love you when I met you. There wasn’t anything you could’ve said, or anything you could’ve done. You gave me time to decide, time to open my arms but I didn’t, because I couldn’t. Our love was lost, our chance was missed. If timing is everything, then time worked against us, and too often I look at the door and hope you’ll walk in, so we can meet again.
We spend our lives preparing for the day we graduate college. The day we enter the real world and the day we’re left on our own. Society has put it in our heads that life starts and stops when we’re handed a diploma. We have so much to do and so much time to do it, yet we live to believe it should already be done.
Life shows no mercy as we’re hit with a wind that keeps pushing back. Teasing us of happiness beyond the cold. Success beyond the struggle. The hardest thing to do is look up and look forward, so too often, we turn our backs, and lose sight of the path we were walking. The only way we’ll succeed is to use the push of the wind as momentum and use the idea of falling; as the very something that keeps us up.