How often do we stumble and rise again to hobble on a bloodied knee, a twisted ankle, a damaged wrist that tried to catch us but couldn’t hold us as we fell. It seems a sinister thing to bleed and heal and bleed again in this chaotic world so filled with pain and confusion that maybe it would be better to blow it up and end it.
I want to be new again, innocent, fresh as a baby in a soft blanket held close to a loving mother’s breast. To be anything more is too much. All this adulting is too adult. It tires me before my feet hit the floor. I dare myself to live wild and loose, debt free and without a contract yet freedom is like the cosmos, a vast expanse with far off destinations, barely glimpsed by the eye, bridged only by an endless expanse of empty dark distance. I am no star walker in this fragile form I ware so I sign the contracts and hunker down to pay my rent.
Half grown children dream of the freedom of the parentless life, of red couches and coffee houses where friends meet to chat and do nothing. They laugh and play at being the adult never dreaming they could spend an hour just looking for a password to an app that is barring them from viewing their bank balance. Time dies in ridiculous ways. It was all supposed to be so fun, except for the simple fact that we forgot that fun is a thing made up and created not expected or anticipated.
Love was the most powerful force in my world until it was trumped one night by joy, a feeling so foreign that when it hit me I sewed it to my feet like a second shadow. Joy trumps love, is love, only wrapped in happiness and elevated so high that it dose’t get upset when the wine is spilt. It laughs the way we laughed in memory, in those sun kissed days before we decided to take it all too seriously. Reborn, I am the child again, and the world is mine. I have chosen joy over love, over bitterness, over resentment. I have chosen joy because to do less would be to cease to live again.