My Life


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Some days are meant for joy and laughter and togetherness. 

     Days like Christmas and New Years and birthdays, days on vacation or nights spent at concerts. 

     These days tend to make me cry.

     Like twenty. 

     Promised to be “onward”, promised to only go “Up” from here.

     Known to be a year of friendship, of words, of laughter brought down from the Heavens.

     And yet.

     Pushed against, the gift I never asked for, breath in my lungs that I’m yet to be entirely grateful for. 

     I remember that night almost a year ago when I wept and He told me how it will end up. 

     I remember all the times I danced even as my stomach ached and I wanted to give up. 

     I remember the butterfly balloon; that night I cried in the car while she was paying at the gas station; the night I thought I would see the promise but ended up crying for hours. 

     I remember every day I walked in and smiled and said I was doing good even as I wanted to die.

     I remember deep blues and moving to the future and the desire to return to the ocean.

     I remember dark hallways with locked doors and basements like deserts and a sword that I never had to hold on my own.

     I remember two and four, pain and loneliness, and the fear that followed.

     I remember escaping, then connecting; wandering, then returning; staying and never going. 

     I remember what must come after sowing; that sometimes losing everything means gaining more; and that the God of the Universe is always on time, never early nor late. 

     Maybe I don’t want to be twenty just yet, but I will.

     Maybe I don’t understand this whole being human thing yet, but I will.

     And maybe I’m still lonely—not because I’m alone, but because there’s still empty spaces on the inside—but it won’t always be this way.

     It will get better, even though sometimes I hate hearing that.

     I will experience those moments only dreamed of, share the words I hold dear, and love life in a way that right now seems out of reach.

     Maybe I don’t want twenty, but twenty certainly wants me.

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