Sitting and drinking and watching, I feel the simple complexity of it all. What’s here is only as real as everything else, yet more real as I allow myself to perceive it. I name my grievances and express my disinterest, and I wonder what they feel but it no longer interferes. Being here will never be as easy as it was, but being me is slowly becoming more like breathing. I look up and the dotted sky meets my eyes and whispers my name, and I’m reminded of a secret that the iron in my blood once sang.

And just like that, with each rise and fall of my chest, they’re reduced to another layer – of me. There is so much more to them than I could ever hope to describe. That which shapes me is amorphous and richly colored – memories I could only dream of reliving, to see again… hear. I find their fading hues and hold on tightly as we begin again, hurtling like comets, towards the ever-expanding future… hoping they don’t drift away along our course. Without the past to protect and guide the path, the destination is as bleak as what led us to this beach. I look in front of me and all I see is a road of shining lights stretching into the liminal expanse between an endless oblivion and the sand beneath my feet.

When you finally sit down and notice your bruised knuckles, I hope you’ll be able to forgive yourself for the choices you made – words said – scars left. And even more so, you should hope that at that time I will still have room to let you back into my heart and life; for, these stars seem to be a one-way street that will teach me how to become everything you were supposed to be.