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Maybe loving is a privilege, and being loved is a blessing.

And maybe it's luck when both hearts choose each other.

 

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He's still my favorite star.

But I've stepped out of his gravity. There was a time I thought I'd shine brighter orbiting his. As if light only made sense when it came from his direction. Maybe now, I want to be the sea. Or maybe dust. A part of everything  and owed to no one.  Maybe a voice, a line between letters. Or a scent that lingers in the doorway, long after I've left. Maybe I just want to be human again. Someone ordinary. Someone allowed to feel joy without apologizing for it. Someone who still waits for good news without bracing for the worst. Who still hopes. Who forgets, and forgives herself, anyway. I still look at the sky. Mostly after dawn, when everything is hushed, and the prayers still hang in the air. He's probably shining somewhere else now. He always belonged  to a different sky than the one I could reach. And yes, some nights I miss him before I even realize I do. And some mornings, I still look for him out of habit. Glance upward as if he'd still be there. But I'm lear...
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I'm starting to wonder if not knowing you anymore was ever the right way.

I've kept my eyes from chasing your name, taught my hands not to reach  for any trace of you. I thought I'd drawn the line.  Thought this might work. I tried to finish the feelings, patiently.  Sometimes still letting them stop by as if they might leave on their own.  I thought I could. I thought I'd grown. Then I saw you. Not on purpose.  Not in any way I could prepare for. And just like that, you tore through every wall I've been rebuilding.  Hole after hole. Until there was no wall at all. So what now? The gap cuts again. And God, I miss you so much, in a way that makes me unsure I could survive this twice. 
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It wasn’t an ending.

Not really. Just something unplanned, that turned out to be a beginning. This time, I freed myself from the duty of trying. From the duty to hold, to understand, to accept, question, answer, and wait for something that never once met me halfway. And for the first time in months after everything fell apart, I felt tired in a way that didn’t scare me. Like my body was finally allowed to stop bracing for impact. The fog isn’t gone. But it’s thinning. And though the way out is still sunless, I can feel it. I can feel that there is a way out. Yes, it’s the irony that stings. And the hypocrisy that burns. That I gave so much grace to everything. Except for myself. That I kept waiting to feel like I was worth staying for. When it was always me I kept abandoning. I don’t know how long this will take. How much of me I’ll have to rebuild. Or how many days will still taste like survival. But for now, this is enough. More than enough. Tomorrow can come when it does. Yesterday can stay where it bel...
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