Water in my Hands

“You’re so distant”
I’m sorry it’s not completely intentional,
(but it is a little)
“You hate me”
No, I definitely don’t,

I’m 36 years old now
I was in kindergarten when it dawned on me that we die
and that when we die our bodies don’t magically vanish, like Yoda.
No, we rot. I have my own theories about what happens when we die,
but this entry isn’t about that.

I’m having a hard time focusing here.

If I can’t keep you, I don’t want you.
Not because I DON’T want you,
it’s because I can’t have you.
Until I can physically – actually freeze time
and stop this world from spinning
stop the clock from ticking
stop our bodies from the slow decomposition that is aging..
I’ll never have you.
Time, love, life is much like trying to hold water in the palm of your hand.
You feel it in the *moment* that it’s passing through your fingers
no matter how you try to squeeze them to savour it –
it still finds its way past.
You can’t grip it, you can’t really hold it
it all slips away too fast
and you end up empty-handed

it hurts

it hurts realizing that everything is dying around you
that you are just as much of a ghost as the people you surround yourself with

We all go alone in the end,
So even at 36 years old, I’m still trying to learn how to let go
of things that were never mine in the first place
that no matter how hard or how long I try to cling to them
that they will never ever be mine.

I feel sorry for anyone who has ever tried to have a relationship with me.
I just can’t stop these thoughts and feelings
they never sleep.

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