On Goodbyes
To the lengths I cannot reach
It has been a month of undoing and redoing. I finally dared to look at the sky, only to find that the stars had changed places. A symbol of movement, and I am a forced participant.
Leaving is not easy without a churning stomach. Quitting is easier, but it isn’t for me. Guilt weighs me down, but regret eats me from the inside.
I would rather be eaten since it carries me to exhaustion. The weights can only go so far, for I would never let them down. But you don’t always get to choose. Unwillingly, they place me at the farthest end of the table. I look through a glass, the wrong side of the mirror, and at one point, I become one with it.
I look through. There’s a world in front of me. I am not being seen.
I forget what I want and what I don't. It's easy to slip away and fall. The helical pit calls what I think is my name, unless I entirely hallucinated it. Unfortunately, I always like to think myself right, so I sink further in. Unlike fiction, you don’t get to know if it’s all a mistake until it’s too late.
I have tried to get out of it with bones intact. But only the ones who dove know that it is a farcical thought. Each time it claims a feather, yet it doesn’t keep me from revisiting. Feathers are like hair; they grow back, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
For a change, I tried my hand at preservation. Keeping things alive to feel like a god. Or a mother. Growing a plant to pluck its flower. Every time I plucked one, I pressed it between white paper and froze it under heavy books, because if you don’t let them see the sun, they won’t know how much time has passed (ask me how I know). Over time, they became dry and paper-thin, yet they remained in place. To achieve immortality, they had to achieve death.
As it all came to an end, it doesn’t mean I got to rest. It is just one drawer in a shelf. You are warned to open one only after entirely closing the other.
I wish I didn’t need to leave every place I’ve been to. I could cut a piece of land and take it with me— flowers, rocks, and all. This is why I pack dust of sand from the sea beaches with shells like pearls, and try to smell the ocean in it.
I hope nothing ever passes me by, but passes me through.