The very existence of your soul in the same rotation as mine has me in chills. The cold touch of memories have faded to the whisper of a Winter’s breath. You are lost among the treetops, the Appalachian wonderland where you roam without worry. I, too, am lost. However, there are no footsteps to follow backwards. Two years of seasons have gone by and the rain washed away the tracks to lead me home. Instead, I wander onward toward the never-ending abyss of adventure and intrigue, a tiresome cycle of approaching the unknown.
The liberation you found was in your words, the creation of which came to you as easily as everything else in your beautiful world. The light surrounding you and your mind was of dazzling brilliance, and there was no chance that my darkness could be a part of that world; the universe simply couldn’t allow it. I made the mistake of following the path of righteous despair away from you and all the goodness you represented for me. I had to fall out of love with an idea of a person, because that’s all you can be for me while I roam, and I’m not in a place where I can stop. Not yet.
The world that I’ve created lives and breathes every day for my very existence, and no amount of narcissism can make me believe I will ever be good enough for you. So, go about your way without worry or a second thought about the trail of glitter you left behind. I’ll keep finding sparkles in my hair while I lean on what I believe to be solid, then take yet another step into the unknown. Maybe the next time our paths cross I’ll be a bit more brilliant, maybe even brilliant enough.
I wrote you a letter that never made it into the mailbox, words that told of my feelings and their wandering nature. Funny, how an envelope can travel across the globe delivering mundane sensations of contempt or uselessness, and yet I can sit here contemplating how there was no return address on my heart. When I left it, I didn’t need a carrier pigeon or a man going door to door, I handed it over freely from my palm to yours. We were one, in one place living different lives with different versions of each other standing side by side, but then I left. As much as I’d hoped to start anew and dive into the deep sea of opportunity that awaited a new born individual such as myself, I hit concrete thousands of miles down. There was no sound when I landed, just a stack of my own mail filled with debts and wishes that it’d get better soon. Now that months and months have passed, I can stand on my own, genuinely admiring where I’ve landed, but behind me looms that cliff. No matter how far forward I march, I can still see it as clear as day, the path of least resistance toward a sure surface as flat as the Earth once was. So, after staring up towards the edge where we once stood, I decided to tell you how I miss you and I sat on my concrete floor to write you my letter. It began with “dear” and finished with “love,” sentiments that I was sure wouldn’t be lost to your finely-tuned ears. You would understand how much I miss being on the top of that cliff with you, in harmony, hands clasped tightly around each other. I never sent that letter though, for I was sure you’d simply let go and watch it flutter to the place my body crashed so long ago.
Lulling Behind 