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Monday, October 15

Sunshine.

This is my predicament:

I tell myself, "Okay. So I'm here. I've made it as far as I planned to go. Now what? What in the world do I do next?" And I figure I could take two steps backwards. Because that's one way that I know I've been and know I could go back to. I could take two steps backwards and forget. Forget that I ever saw you. The way the sky fell into you. The way it took my breath away.

But that's impossible. To forget that moment. To forget the moment that the sun faded from my sight and there was nothing but grey. Impossible. It was astounding. Nature. The way it swallowed you whole. Grabbed you straight from the heart of my life and helped you disappear. You went from being in the center to the edge, a dot in the fog on the horizon. Fading. Fading. And then grey. Nothing but grey.

So then I figure, if that's impossible, I could take two steps forward. I could take two steps forward and forget. Forget that I ever saw you. The way the sky fell into you. The way it took my breath away. And you're thinking it's the same. But it's not. I would not be forgetting to go back. But forgetting to move forward. To move beyond anywhere I have ever been before, beyond anyone I have ever been before.

But that's impossible. To forget that moment. To forget that moment that the sun faded from my sight and there was nothing but grey would be forgetting everything that came after. And what would that mean for me? I would be nothing but you. I would be transformed into you. Falling into you, into the person you once were, into the act you once acted out, I would be taking your spot. I would be going from the center to the edge, a dot in the fog on the horizon. Fading. Fading. And then grey. Nothing but grey.

I couldn't do that. The responsibilty, the burden, the hurt that I would be causing would be too much to bear. You did it. But maybe I am just not that cruel.

But then again, maybe I'm a fool to think that at all. Maybe it will all end up the same way in the end. From sun to fog, from center to horizon, from color to grey. Because what is purple is blue is green is yellow is orange is red is purple. And it doesn't last, does it? The circle of life meets fifth grade art class. It makes sense, it is proven over and over; and yet, we refuse to believe.

It's the straight truth. But then again, I always did prefer my truth crooked, with a side of idealism.

At the end of the day, I guess I'm just waiting for the rain. Where is the rain, anyway? That much fog and no rain. All the anticipation without the release. I'm just searching for my closure. And maybe I've been walking around in circles. Not backward. Not forward. In circles. And maybe my eyes were shut tight, closed to the truth, no matter how straight or crooked it was. But at least my arms were spread, wide, wide, wide. Searching. Searching. Maybe in vain, but always searching. And that's more than I can say for you.

But it's time. Out of the fog, over the edge, into the yellow I go.


(give/down)
Are you ready?

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