Monday, August 17, 2015

Me And That Old Man

It feels surreal. I'm losing so many parts of my life now. So many. I find myself tearing up at odd times. I don't feel particularly sad, the pain is not overwhelming. But it's just one long goodbye...and you know, people cry at goodbyes, they grieve.

I see everything slipping away and there is nothing I can do about it. So I just watch, go through the motions, try to show the people I love that I love I see them slipping away as well.

I have been happy here. I have. And despite all my angst, I've felt loved and accepted and appreciated. Everything has to change I suppose. Everyone has to move away.

Maybe one day, things will change because I made it happen. And not because I was a passive recipient of someone else's agency.


But still...there is this feeling of sadness that goes on in the background, this gentle weeping, the quiet sobs.

And I read these words today by Pooja Nansi and thought, yes, how apt.

He's my heart on a high wire, never making it across,
The name on a gravestone now covered in moss,
the smeared mascara and the wiped off gloss,

me, and that
old man,

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