i don't

I don’t know how to talk about it. I don’t know how to put the words to sentences. I don’t know how to feel it. I don’t know how to live with this. I don’t know how to move on, not without feeling like I am in open heart surgery, all day long.


This is where things get hard, where things get messy. Because all I’m left with is a multitude of emotions that haven’t had words to explain them in centuries and maybe I wasn’t meant for this time. But maybe I was. And all I’m really meant to do is scream and cry and hope that one day all this pain, all this process, will suddenly bear fruit and be given purpose. Maybe. 


But I’m young yet, despite feeling the echos of eons past. Which is something no-one will ever understand unless they too have heard the whistle of the wind whipping through the trees oh so many years ago. It’s not something to be understood, it is something to be known. 


I never seem to get very far into my stack of questions before twenty more are added to the top. It’s a never ending pile of things I don’t understand, or can’t or won’t except. It’s exhausting. So maybe it’s time to put the pen down. Maybe it’s time to let the wind pass me by, maybe it is time to feel the grass and let the clouds sing me to sleep. Maybe it is time to let the process rest, to let this life, this tragedy, run its course. Maybe, it is time to let go. 


I don’t really know what I’m talking about, I never do. What I know is that there is much to be felt inside of the words again, and never, and time, and maybe. That inside of the word again there is an entire universe to be explored. And in never there is an ocean to sink in forever. And in time there is so little to be seen only felt. And in maybe there is an expanse so wide it is yet to be given form. I don’t know what I’m talking about, which isn’t entirely true. I can feel it, the weight. 


But I’m just a girl who looked at the world and asked “all this pain, all this suffering, all this beauty, all this wonder, how… how do I live with this?” Because I’m just a girl who saw the world and wept, because there was nothing else to be said. How? The question is no longer why, the question is, how?

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