yesterday i found myself in a teary state. every now and then i remember the farewells that await me and immediately my stomach sinks and a dampness take to my eyes.

how many times i have done my hellos and goodbyes i wouldn’t know. i must have lost count so many years ago. and yet in having done this time and time again, my heart does not seem to have found a way to endure this with any more ease.

often the biggest joy i am able to feel is in reunions. when friends apart for years are in my arms and we can share tears of sheer joy, of being in the company of each other again. to catch up, to laugh, to find ourselves connecting and loving each other like we have always done. for those moments i am in a constant period of waiting.

i am permanently always away from someone i desperately love. and just when i think it’s all okay, i’m thrown back into this emotional state. in recent months i found myself blessed to be with those from a very different part of my life. regardless of the roads we took, our connection remained unchanged and it takes seeing people again to realize just how much you’re missing when you’re not with them.

my heart and my head have yet to recover from the brutal separation of time and continents and i find myself having to prepare for two farewells, both of which i espeically dread.

soon, i’ll say another “see you later” to someone who has been my anchor and my compass although i rarely give due credit. how does one capture the nuances of siblinghood? the brutality with which we can hurt each other, and the ease with which we can forgive. the secrets we know and the secrets we share. the experiences which are uniquely both ours. to find myself away from this has become more normal than being in the same place. somehow i find myself more of a child in this case as opposed to growing older and wiser. i am not looking forward to this.

and then, only a week after, i dread to think of what all it will be that i feel. a deep sadness over having to see off someone who has amazed me every single day. it will not be easy to let go of such a beautiful soul–the kind that we’re not willing to believe in anymore as we grow older and more cynical. and yet, someone i dared not piece together in my dreams or imagination has been a very real part of me and my life for the better portion of this year.

knowing you’ll have to say goodbye doesn’t make it any easier or any harder. wanting to avoid the aches and pains doesn’t make it any less real. doesn’t make it any better. the only comfort i know is knowing that for these select few, it’s undoubtedly worth it. for all the tears i know i will cry, i wouldn’t change a thing. not with her, and most certainly not with him. this is what love is.

meanwhile in the real world, i’ve been learning, again, that i still have so much to learn. i am happy–this is important–more happy than i’ve been in a long time. i feel well, and healthy. and perhaps it’s because of that frame of mind i think it’s a good time to address things. difficult things. things i’d rather not think about. things better to brush under the rug.

this is not as noble as it may appear. it took prodding. and tears. a lot of tears. conversations aren’t easy. vulnarability requires uncredited bravery. even when i think i’m communicating well i can see the meaning of my words change when they reach intended ears. there is no bigger frustration than not being able to present, and see, from each other’s perspective.

i try, but maybe i’m just a bad student. not so quick to learn certain things that should be…so…easy. but just aren’t. jagged little edges. raw. and sore. always sore.

but like i said, i’m happy. and as cheesy as it sounds, i’m happy with who i am. who i am becoming. how i am becoming more…me. the individual i’m intended to be. i have found the very best kind of love–something easy and deep, simple and true, friend and lover–all rolled perfectly into one, and i am stunned. and humbled. and i am grateful. so so so grateful. to have that, and the support of friends, and the unconditional love of family. (maybe it’s true, maybe i don’t feel worthy.)

i am coming into different perspectives, changed beliefs, altered views. and it’s good. it adds depth and breadth to everything. my mind feels widened…and i am growing (this is also important!). through all of it, i am trying. bit by bit. trying to listen more. listen better. learn well. learn over, and over again.

i wanted to make note of that. of this. to have it marked somewhere–this time where i am coming into balance. finding equilibrium. at peace. and loved. so loved. and loved, so well.

happy and content. content and happy.

i did not think, even now, in my happiness, that you could hurt me like this.
i had thought i was drifting away, from the anger, from the pain, from the betrayal, and from those lies.

those lies. those lies. those lies.

but when you know me so well, you know at which points i break.
and when you said, so clearly, you simply just didn’t like me

i fell back and again, you left me floored. gutted. spilled.
and even though i didn’t think i had any tears left for you,
i cried, and i cried. and i cried.

you’re good you said, but your personality…
and i am shaken, because it was that very self
that once loved you so well, that loved you so deep

it is the very self you hate now
who i have come to love, to accept.
i have found confidence, assurance,
myself, i cherish.

it is the same me you wrote to say you were afraid to lose from your life entirely.
but i suppose that too was a lie. it would have to be.
if your intention was to hurt so completely, you succeed.

even now, i think about spring fires on mountain tops
and where once there was magic and warmth
here on out, those memories burn.
and you with it.

she was birth of age
the screams of her life led
and lost in the screams of others

she arrived, fists shaking
to the rhythm of the walls
and the sway of the ground

blood spilling, flesh splitting
in the pain of life
and the terror of death

born into rubble
breathing in dust
her first home,
her final resting place.

inspiration.
i think about it
a lot.

about why one needs it. where does one go to find it? what of when it cannot be found?

i look around. i keep an open heart. and eye. and mind.
all i feel is calm. and the promise of something.

something wonderful.

i think then, about happiness. about how it has often inhibited me from writing. from how there are less words that way. wouldn’t you know, all the crap writing as of late–it stems from such a good place.

such a good, good, good, place.

and in this i am conflicted by a trade: words for happiness.
it doesn’t quite seem fair.

maybe it’s time (high high time) i introduce discipline.
can one make the time? is it attainable? where does one go for writing prompts?

where does one find inspiration.