but I'm alive.
falling into the past over and over again
flying backward into the comfort of what was.
but there's a catch, it's not actually that comfortable.
it's wet, damp.
these quiet breezes sting my eyes.
I can see the trees, dancing back and forth
I can hear them whisper.
over and over again.
and I find myself wishing I could go back
to the way I was.
but then, I can't decide which version of myself I would rather be.
they all have ugly faults,
some of them have redeeming qualities.
I try to pinpoint exactly when one version of me became another,
but it may be impossible.
the changes seem so clear, so stark that they must have happened as abruptly as they feel now.
I won't stay but I can't leave.
these other versions, they're with me, on either side at all times.
somedays I do my best to keep their heads under water
my arms aren't long enough, not strong enough
their heads bob up and down, sometimes breaking the surface in tremulous water.
They blink, and stare
and blink again.
They blink me into oblivion and my skin crawls away.
But I tell myself that I'm in charge.
I get the urge to let them all go, let them drift away until they're only specks on the horizon,
until I can't seem them at all,
until I can no longer recall their faces, their hair floating limply in the water,
until I can't remember them at all.
But I didn't,
They're still here, speaking their minds,
words that reach me as pockets of air, bursting on the water's face.
words that make my ears ring endlessly.
I could let them go, but then who would I be?
How would I remember?
If only I could undo them, take them apart and disentangle the parts I never wanted
to be left with only the best parts.
But then, which parts are those?
They all look so similar,
How could I?
If I made a mistake, I could ruin it all.
But I can't choose, I can't tell.
I can't stay, but I won't leave.