this is an exorcism.

i am cleansing my soul of a past i can't return to.

i am ridding myself the skeletons in my closet.

i don't want to dance with ghosts, or pretend i am dancing with ghosts.

i could have asked you to dance.

i could have faced myself.

i could have ended the cycle of repressing myself.

i could have talked to you in that hotel room.

i could have literally said anything.

i let all my words pile up,

that by the time i had the opportunity to say them,

i didn't know where to begin.

i had novels, all ending in apologies.

i had explanations,

for my inability to live bold and brave and free.

how could i possibly explain how fate tied me to white folk,

specifically white jewish folk.

how destiny meant that i had to test

the morals of filial piety.

how would i possibly convey,

that i didn't even consider myself a person because for my whole life

i've been trying to ignore my existence,

because of my inevitable oblivion.

our collective oblivion.

there was no explanation.

there was no justification.

i was a coward,

afraid of not being good enough. of not having anything to offer.

i was afraid that my existence, was not valid enough.

i didn't know how to open up,

to share.

to express.

i didn't know how to be vulnerable.

i still find it hard.

i stumble with my words because everything came from somewhere and i feel the need to justify my existence.

this is an exorcism.

no longer do i need to justify my existence.

choices are made.

actions are done.

explanations are optional.

if people want to know,

they will ask.

if people want to hear,

they will listen.

if people want to see,

they will see.

we consent into the realities we exist in.

we opt to navigate the world in the ways that we do.

we choose the worlds we travel.

we have the power.