I Need a Moment

[You can always trace it back to a moment - maybe a series of moments, one after another - when life begins to change. That moment when she stands up, stretches her arms and shakes inertia off herself. She moves. Alters. Changes. The moment is - or series of moments are - marked indelibly, like fireworks against the background of a dark sky.]

I see you. You see me.

Explosions in the sky.

Happiness in true camaraderie.

Eyes closed. Rumbling beneath my feet.

Explosions in the sky.

And suddenly it’s just me.

Broken, empty tears like rain.

Explosions in the sky.

Nothing’ll ever be the same.

Deep breath; begin and done.

Explosions in the sky.

The game is lost and I am one.

Giant Jumble of Mistakes

"They say action is character. I think that means that if we never did anything, we would never be anybody."

        - Jenny Mellor, An Education

I do believe that who we are is what we do. 

I am the words I say, I am the thoughts I think.
The dreams that I aspire to.

I believe I am the laughs I laugh and every tear I cry; 

All my successes and my failures; 

My friendships and the fights I choose to fight. 

Most of all, I realize with a heavy understanding, that I am the mistakes I make.
Every misstep, every stumble - and every swerve I knew not to take.

For you who know me - even a tiny part of me -
You know, and know with a sad certainty,

That I am just a giant jumble of mistakes.

The assumptions I ought not to have made, the words I ought not to have said;
That look I really shouldn't have read. 

That belief that I ought not to have loved, the consequences I ought to have seen;
That ideal I really should never have tied to me.

That jump off the roof that I ought to have known was silly;
That plan that everyone but me saw as far too crazy,
That pan I ought to have known was hot,
That truth that was always better told than not. 

That idea that seemed to shine in my mind;
That feeling that seemed - in my head - rationalized,
And that special thing I foolishly thought was mine.

Cowering in that laundry list of ought-not's and shouldn't-have's, I lose myself quietly;
I look her square in the face tonight, turn around and run away from the person I seem to be. 

I hear the voice of a younger-me resounding in my head;

'We are made of all our thoughts and words; all the things we've ever done.
Never, ever just one.'

'We are a grand sum total', she used to tell me with naivety.
But tonight she's dead. And the picture in my head is painted differently.

I used believe that we are how we fix things;

How we slowly grow back our wings.
We were the lessons we learn and all the mistakes never make again -
Of this I used to be certain.

Maybe someday I'll believe again -  and maybe slowly, in time,
I'll believe that we can be the changes we make in our lives,
how we get up after a fall,
and how we heal the hurt we cause.