“Tearing up silence, killing time. Drinking our feelings on it, tasted like wine.”
Sedating ourselves with seductive charm and habitual comfort, we retrace traveled steps with delicate fingertips and assured soles. Falling back on reliable patterns is effortless when it feels so satisfying. We stain our lips and lungs with the marks of our addiction.
“All we ever wanted was to have what we had. Never what I wanted for it to get this bad.”
Nostalgia pulls down our eyelids like the shades on morning windows. We slip into daydreams of our joy, enthusiasm, love. We repeat these images like binging on movies, wishing our consumption will transform our reality. We glorify the smiles and crave the laughter. For something so familiar, why does it now feel so foreign?
“Oh now baby, the sweetest little thing. I can’t stomach the things my memory sings.”
Shaken to the present by alarms, obligations, we resent being woken from our imaginations. What we have now doesn’t feel like what we think we deserve. How my mind covets to indulge in the past with little consideration of the emotions it unnerves. Carrying heavy eyes and pits in our stomachs, we embrace the weight by day but cry about its strain by night. Walking with scars like they’re badges, we are simultaneously absorbed by the pain as we are exhausted by it.
“I feel like following my heart again; don’t feel like listening or playing that part again.”
Rewriting the same stories in the attempt of a happier conclusion tricks us into complacency when we play the same roles. Pain won’t transform into healing until our hearts, minds, and palms are equipped. An individual action, you know my direction. Choose for yourself; your intuition serves your stance. Trust and tune into it; you’ll be relieved by what you may hear. Onward and upward, we both transition and grow like the vines we seek silence beside.
“If we had a message, I think it got lost. Maybe I’m closer now, than we ever got.”
The universe imparts guidance over time in many ways, should we choose to listen to the messages. If we don’t learn at the flick of a pebble, we understand by the crash of a boulder. At our own mistakes, we lost our own antidote. Clouded by a trance and disorientated from sentiment, we misplaced our healing and our love.
Perhaps though, our message rings more clear than ever before. Perhaps now, we can truly hear each other. With newfound reception and sensitivity, perhaps we finally are evolving into who we aspire to become.
In light of our stories, I wish the best of this for you.