A choice to be made between the past and the future. In both choices, there is a loss. In both choices there is a gain. My heart grieves and embraces, longs and hopes. Why is my life always about letting go of things in order to grow toward other things? I never can just exist can I? Always being poked by fate. Either way my heart hurts. Even in joy I always know the price I paid. There then, is the difference between me and other people, I always know what I’m losing, while they only learn later…after I am gone and I have been forced to once again choose myself.
I’m tired down to my soul. This is how I know I’ve lived more than one life. There is no way I’m this tired from just this singular life. I’m tired straight down through however many lives I’ve wandered. I’m once again there, in that place I always mourn the reappearance. Just how fucking old am I God?