Forgotten

So I am a new person.

Well at least in a sense. Things have happened to me.

I had this dream once. I went on a trip across the world, and saw things I'd only ever imagined and seen on TV. It was a land of strange voices belonging to stranger people, shouting and laughing and crying, and they didn't have a care in the world except to simply be. Everything was moving so quickly and I hardly knew myself. Before I had the chance to make sense of where I was I had become a part of it; my heart melted right out of my chest and before I could gather it up and put it away it had seeped into the soil. My eyes glazed over and I was entranced. In love. I would have died to be born and live there. To taste and smell again the wonders I'd discovered in that seemingly non-existent paradise. To live and be free, happy as I once was as though nothing else in the world mattered. I suppose it's most fortunate that it was only a dream... or so it seems.

It is only after you truly fall in love that you know what it means to be lost. When the only thing you can associate with the word "whole" is taken away from you. Or worse, you're taken away from it. And in your heart of hearts you know one day you'll get back... you just don't know when or how. Until then life just pushes you along, and if you try to fight it it beats you down and drags you. Time slows down and suffocates you, it squeezes you until tears leak from your eyes like raindrops from the stomachs of swollen storm clouds. Equally frightening and equally as destructive. Yet you face your largest task: acceptance. I hate the word. It's such an easy word to push, so simple to say to someone yet so much harder to do. It does happen though, as it happened to me. Everything in between then and now is unimportant. What is important is what I wish to say about my life, little as it may be. I believe in words.