The words are forbidden.
All we have are stolen glances across a sea of faces and my own hands against the wall. How was I to know that time would be stronger than our best intentions? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Looking for pages hidden in a book closed long ago.
Honestly, I never expected to care, having always prided myself on decision over circumstance. Who was I to think I could close the door and never hear the echo? How long did I really think I could ignore it, push it aside, or hide? Always so careful with everyone but me.
And now? A single whisper breaks the lock. Memories flood me. Happy, serene, safe, loved. I see a world of blue hands and twirling parasols and days of couch happy bliss. Birds and rainbows and music and dancing naked in the wind. I miss it all the most.
But, this is happy, too, in a simply existing way. Comfortable enough to smile. The steady, calm water. Gently rocking boat. It unnerves me. Frustrates me. I want more, and what I want is what you cannot possibly give me. What I want should matter, but it doesn’t.
So, I settle to a low point and rest.
Uncertainty challenges faith and feeling – how to ignore the pieces that fit the puzzle so well. All this, and a thousand reasons to question. Pound of feathers, pound of flesh. Something has to give.
In the end we are the sum of our choices. Are we not?
Tip the scales.