Let It Go

Let it go
Don’t look back
Go down the road
Walk with me

Let it go
She’s gone, I’m here
I’ll be your home
Life with me

Let it go
No one else matters
It’s just me and you
Love with me

Let it go
Life happens once
We’ll be happy so
Let it go

Opportunity

I feel like such an idiot. Why is it that when the time actually arrives you freeze?

I’ve only been waiting for just about forever. And there it is - the opportunity! The one that I thought would never come. I can touch it, and yet I don’t. I don’t grab it. I just sit there and watch it go by.

I am mentally banging my head into the wall. Why do I let fear take over? I can’t seem to conquer the feeling that I’ll never do good enough. That it will be disappointing, and not what I’d hoped it would be. I’ve spent so much of the last several years wishing I could do things different, yet when the time comes to try again? Not so much.

Will the opportunity come again? Maybe. Will I grab it? Hopefully. If not, I will have still not learned a thing.

Run

She was running towards the house as fast as her feet could carry her. The trees were so thick that they blocked the moonlight. Branches were tearing across her face and arms, stones jabbing into her bare feet.

She reached the edge and stopped, almost falling over with the sudden end of motion. Her lungs were burning, her heart struggling. Her eyes adjusted to the sudden moonlight and she desperately looked across the clearing for it.

A rustling from behind caused her already aching heart to jump, and she snapped her head around. She had to get there before they did.

She took off over the clearing, her feet slapping at the hard earth. She saw a faint glow in the distance and turned towards it. She heard pounding behind her, or was it just the blood trying to work through her aching body? She didn’t dare look for fear of slowing down.

She grew closer, the light growing stronger. She heard a shout – they were closing in. She willed her feet to go faster, and with a sudden jolt of energy she propelled herself forward.

She could see the door. Her feet slammed onto the wooden steps as she bounded onto the porch. She threw the door open…

The Table

The table seems to go on for miles, the endless number of chairs perfectly placed. They stand at attention, waiting for the order to move and do what they were made to do. The table is solid, a heavy and dark plank that seems to mock as it sits empty.


The once beautiful throne sits at the head, staring down at the blank canvas. It was placed in this prominent spot so all could see how many people filled the table. And they did fill it. So many people sat in those chairs and moved happiness around the surface.


Then they started going elsewhere. Little by little the chairs stopped moving, for they had found a table they liked better. It wasn’t as dark or heavy, and the chairs more welcoming. And then one day, they were no more. The throne sat alone, trying to bring them back. I’ll move the table to them! I’ll make it lighter, more joyful! But they didn’t listen.


It’s been empty for many years, growing cold and isolated. It no longer feels welcoming, as if the life that had once pulsed through its grooves faded away. A steady trickle of water runs down the center, wearing a hole in the heart of it. It’s slowly dying, losing hope that it will ever see it filled again.

Hollow

Do you know that feeling deep in your soul? Like a knot in the bottom of your heart. Something you need to say – to tell God out loud – but there are no words.

I’m looking at the dark night sky. The stars burn brightly, winking at me like they know. Laughing at me while I struggle.

I hear a scream. A sound so despairing and hollow it chills my core. It ripples over the water, causing the waves to shudder under its weight. I scream until there is no sound left. Until my voice can no longer carry the load.

I collapse on the sand, crying silently with my shoulders quaking. There is nothing left. The tears are gone, leaving once bright eyes red and burning. There are still no words, no way to convey what is tearing a hole in my heart. I wait for an answer, clutching sand between my fingers, waiting for an end. Waiting for the hole to be filled.

I’m still waiting.

If Only...

I see him. That fiend. There is no other word to describe someone who has no soul. What he did is beyond unthinkable. I feel the bile start to rise and have to look away.

What kind of world is this that he is still walking free, fouling the very air with his rancid and evil shell? Lies and devastation are what he leaves in his wake. People shrink from his presence without knowing who he is or why they should feel that way. His stench escapes from every pore in his body.

I know where he lives and where he works. I know far too much about him. I also know that he won't be stopped. As much as they want him gone, the rules don't allow him to be touched. Something begins to burn.

I pick up the paper in the morning and see the most glorious headline. He is gone! They found him the way he left all of the others. The article has a tone of joy. They will never find who finished the story, for they will never look. I wonder aloud who wrote the end, and thank him.

The teapot is whistling, glass shatters on the cold tile. It is the last thing I see before I hit the floor. It sits there laughing, glinting through its stains.

You

You don't know
That I see you
Standing across the room
You're so intoxicating
I can barely move
Now you're crawling under my skin
I can't breath
Only you
Can make me sin

You drive me crazy
It's everything I can do
To keep my head above you

Rain

You only need an umbrella in the rain if you're afraid of getting wet.

That was the very profound thought I had while I stood in the rain, umbrella-less.

The storm was spectacular. The clouds were piled high and dark, blocking any light the moon might have given. You could glimpse their massive formations as the lighting streaked across the sky. The waves roared toward the shore with a rage that only nature can show, the foam swirling on the white sand. It was possibly not the best move, standing exposed on a beach during a storm.

But I didn't care.

Life has a funny way of never doing what you tell it to do. And because of that, you can slowly and unknowingly die inside, your emotions withering. You don't realize you've forgotten what it used to be like. You don't know what it could be like.

I still don't believe in love at first sight. I just don't see how you can meet someone and just know. I could be wrong, but I've never seen it.

I did learn, on that beach, that you can wake up a long dormant soul. Things you had forgotten are suddenly back in full force, at the front of your mind. A spark has ignited - and now what? Do you stamp it out to rid yourself of the sudden and breathtaking pain it has brought? Do you let it simmer until it is allowed to fully burn again, living with that pain?

It might have been better to have left it alone. To have let that little piece stay dead so you wouldn't know the pain that it has brought.

So, here I am on a beach, in the dark and the rain. But not all of the pouring drops running down my shaking body are from the sky.