I am the beginning of a song that you can’t figure out who it’s by but you know all the words and god dammit it’s on the tip of your tongue.
I am the sound of children laughing followed by the smell of maybe a small fire, but you don’t care because you’re in the middle of nowhere surrounded by all of your best friends.
I am the familiar smell of the laundry detergent your mother used when you were growing up, but you can’t seem to find it anywhere and every time you ask your mother she tells you “Oh it’s just that regular stuff from down the road, that corner store with the slush puppies sign on the door”
I am the metaphor that you use when you’re tired of explaining the same thing over and over again, but they keep asking why you can’t just get over the anxieties that keep you strapped to your bed or locked in your house.
I am the cold coffee you forgot on the kitchen counter, that you poured at 6 am because god dammit you’re going to have a good day even if that entails having to shower or brush your hair.
I am the glisten of the plastic fruit you find in the department store to symbolize a happy home, that you can’t help but want to take a bite out of, and scream at the manager telling him that everything he’s selling is a lie.
I am that sinking feeling you get when you say the wrong answer out loud, like “Thank you for loving me but I really can’t imagine loving someone when I really don’t love myself, but please don’t go I’m scared to be alone”
I am the feeling of regret when you end something beautiful and good because you were too scared to continue and hurt someone you actually loved.
I am the fear of the world falling apart, before you get the chance to do everything you talked about doing those summer nights, we spent on the roof, shivering but being too stubborn to go inside and give up on doing what we read in all those young adult novels by that guy we both like.
I am the mental health warnings that get plastered all over twitter whenever someone in the limelight kills themselves because they couldn’t fight the disease of living anymore.
I am the sound of you slowly waking up in the morning, when you realize that I’m awake and just watching you remember what it looks like to have peace fill my soul.
I am everything that we talked about overcoming in our pasts, and I am the embodiment of what it looks like to be struggling but actually way better off than I once was.
I am the feeling of being underneath a lit Christmas tree talking about how you really hope 2018 will be the year that you conquer all those stranger fears you feel are holding you back from actually doing what you love to do, which you’re not even certain is something that is feasible.
I am the writer’s block that stops your flow of creativity while simultaneously being the only thing that can free you from the writer’s block itself.
I am the feeling of a warm kiss on your forehead before someone goes to work, the kiss that promises they will be home to hold you sooner than you expected.
I am everything and nothing all at once.