Scratch That
The loss of a pattern. A truly jolting thing.
Whether it be my route that has changed, a habit vanishing into nothing or the long-time absence of a person I thought would be there, it’s one of the most unsettling things that can take place. Particularly in situations where pretending was how you got by.
Are there that many people that know what it feels like to not have to sound like enough, to not get to sound like enough, because those you so desperately want to be enough for have dispersed the way they always would have at this point?
You’re by no means alone, and yet everything you were brimming with resolve to do for yourself doesn’t seem as bright without certain individuals to share it with. And you question that exact judgement of yours because you’re meant to move on.
How are you supposed to move on from where you’ve been comfortably sitting for the longest time?
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…
Wait.
I have to remember.
I have to treat the little things that have become better like the proof they are; the proof that being stagnant was never my thing, because I’m not stagnant. It’s just that the speed at which I yearn to move no longer matches the way I do things, and I’d been forcing the latter to align instead of the other way. And perhaps this reality, an interesting pattern in itself, is what I have to carry on holding in my mind. That I will change, that the change I will meet everywhere may even be fun.
And, what’s more, I will probably definitely be reminded that the only thing I do (within the context of patterns) better than searching for patterns …
Is making them on my own. Together. Walled off from everyone else. In unity with those I treasure. Without fearing. Without burning out. All while keeping my spark pulsing against my chest.
Because, look, it’s simply impossible for a Turquoise to lose his energy.
