change

We make decisions for god, country, for a better tomorrow, for the person next to us.
We make changes
We adapt to a chaotic environment.
But the lucky few that do it properly, and for themselves.
They will die happier than I will.

dream

There was snow everywhere, the town was small but not tiny. The house I was staying in was dark with no windows and it was a little run down, almost more like a place for storage than for living.
It skips in and out, I remember:
-walking with a woman through the snow and we kept slipping. She smelled like my grandmother and laughed a lot. We tried to walk over the drifts but sank deep. As we struggle to get our feet back up the drifts vibrated with small animals fleeing underneath us and it was very unsettling.
-the streets were full of animals. I saw a familiar man with a beard walking with goats and then a few bears. A small mongoose began following me. He was brown and seemed to be covered in glitter?
-I'm making dinner in the kitchen I miss. The mongoose chatters around me, hungry. It jumps onto my shoulder and nestles into my hair where I give it chocolate.
-I try to find the basement, but this house does not seem to have one. I find, instead soft earth at the head of the hint of stairs. I start to dig and find small toys, a crumpled letter, a plastic water bottle with something sharp inside, and a large green beetle.
-children vacuuming?

Hmmm. A weird one for sure.

red wine

Shhhhh
Don't say what you are thinking.

that fragile white crack

Somewhere in the midst of a crooked and harrowing life I realized that handling people and the things they feel could be my occupation.
Gently, not so much pressure, but a sense that I am there.
Even if it's just my breath, coming short and a little anxiously.
I cradled these things throughout the years.... I whispered loving secrets, cried, fiercely tore at them, crushed them sometimes, tried my best to nurture most times.
I forgot about my own little rattling feelings, tidy in a matchbox, tucked under a memory I don't look at often.
I always thought this would make me a saint, someone special.
I cared so much.
Can't you see?
Instead it backfired.
The matchbox- it's full of dust. A hole near the corner where something finally chewed through.
In my ignorance I'm not helping anyone.
I'm ignoring the reality.
These people don't need me.
Ha! Quite the opposite. I'm a fucking asshole. The protector?! The one with the rough hands trembling through every apology, every avoidable folly. I'm acting like this hurts me but in my head I'm guilty of just being a spectacular coward.
Good for me. Realization.
Too late.
Much too late.

I lost too much this time. there's nothing left for me.

I'm whispering.
Calm down. Just breathe. Calm down calm down.
Shaking a little.
What did I just give up, say goodbye to?
What have I done?
Will he change? Am I so full of stupid faith and panic that I would stand in that driveway and tell the brightest light that I have to leave. Because the other says, the other swears.... it will be different. Because I was scared.
The truth is I was so happy. Looking into his face under a sea of led Christmas lights. Crunchy mattress shifting.
His smile the most warm feeling. Lips fitted to mine.
I can barely breathe.
He asked me: what do you need?
[What can I do for you?]
How can you love two things. How am I supposed to be happy when I just want to scream.
Just want to go to my car. Drive.
In the opposite direction of the two men that are absolutely destroying me right now, but not in the way you think.
I came back to the old house and he tells me he missed me, that life was empty, that this time it will be our time. But in my head I'm wary... and I swear I smell the ocean.
God. This pain is red and fresh. Searing.
What have I done?