devastatingly devoted // letting "love" leave

versatile, volatile.

when will my words stop being caught,

stuck in my throat,

tapped into existence by my calloused hands.

"children are meant to be seen, not heard."

a child no longer,

the secret i've learned is that most adults,

don't feel like adults either.

responsibility can be learned. and i am acquainting myself to my voice.

by teaching others, i am learning myself.

eldest sister syndrome

seemed to miss me, i think it was the "sister" part.

i was the son he never had, right?

until i painted my nails,

and i became a burden.

it is not wrong to have needs and wants. it is my responsibility to make them realized.

i wasn't "too much", spaces were not expansive enough to hold all of what i had to offer.

what is home supposed to feel like?

safe, and warm. like the brief sanctuaries i sought.

school, synagogue, and the nests of some friends,

every home felt different,

but all of them felt safer than mine.

and now i am learning what building my own home feels like.

what feeling at home can be like.

oh look, our second daughter.

until the phone rang,

reality on the other line.

those words gave me hope, but only for a little while, till the wonder wore off and i remembered this was not my home and these were not my parents, no matter how much i wished or wanted or dreamed.

when i began to run away,

i left my sister behind.

i'm sticking by her side this time.

ohana means family, and family means nobody gets left behind, or forgotten.

the flames that forged me,

made me malleable,

scorched my sister's sharp sides.

i would have noticed.

four words,

held in my hippocampus.

i had been 'watched but never approached' for so long.

willfully? wallflowered.

i wasn't sure how to accept, receive, or reciprocate,

kind,

in kind,

not that me

that's not how boundaries work

they do not have to be walls

i teach my students about the boundary bubble,

how there are those in your close proximity,

and those farther - depending on trust and respect

mutual understanding. listening. open and honest communication.

boundaries are a guide, a how-to co-create experiences.

how people are comfortable being engaged with.

what makes them feel safe and secure and supported.

[the trick is that you have to know yourself well enough to know what your boundaries are]

you can over water a plant or burn your mouth on hot soup

scarcity mindset, borne from insecurity and self doubt.

shame and fear coalescing into cowardice.

cowardice hyping up self doubt and egging on urgency.

i never considered myself beautiful until i sheared off my hair and chest.

big feelings are old feelings.

i am trading in my old feelings for lessons,

they're far lighter than the baggage i've been dragging around.

i am not my damage, and i don't need to carry the 'causes' everywhere i go.

everything is a choice. everyday is a choice.

i have been going through my instagram, getting to know my past selves.

i have gone through so many cycles, grown exponentially.

i am far from where i'd like to be, but that simply means there's plenty of room to grow.

///-///-///-///

i comfort myself with the certainty that you are secure in and with yourself.

that you are safe and sound, supported by those you carefully choose.

i reassure myself that i was simply a blip in the vast wide world of wondrous people you have yet to meet who have yet to know you who have yet to care for you because to know you is to love you that much more.

i tell myself that you are having adventures and pleasantly present.

i remind myself that you requested me to cease my relentless brigade of bashing your boundaries because i believed them to be walls that i had to topple and i know better now.

any proximity to you would be a privilege, and i also understand that i was gifted more than my fair share of chances.

i will be patient with myself and my progress and process in the meantime - all that i've procrastinated in survival mode. all that i've pushed aside and under and in the deep dark corners.

///-///-///-///

ruptured.

repair?

we'll see. only time will tell. but i can no longer keep distracting myself from the present moment, trying to find the path back.

i watched you walk away, and at least i have this memory.

i contemplated wishing we lived in a world we could eternal sunshine ourselves, but even then i don't think i would.

even though biking down past culture tugs at my heart. even though the alamo and dekalb market used to cause a twinge of pain. even though passing by nostrand still gives me goosebumps.

i will cherish what was, while focusing on what is, and hoping there may be more.

this will be the last one for a while.

i need to actually stay focused on the short term goals.

i cannot keep squinting to try and see what i want to be there.

and i want to make sure you know that you left warm, bright, pieces for my mosaic.

i am holding onto all the things i've collected.

to say thank you,

i am grateful we met.

i hope you are too.

[i understand now that you are Not. and that sometimes harm outweighs any potential]

today at work we were speaking heavily about grief because there were a number of death anniversaries and it made me wistful and sad that i was grieving a lost connection with someone that's still very much alive, so that's where this came from - that and it's 4-24 which is numerically balanced.