The First You
The first you was hopeful. Not in the hesitant way that understands the real possibility of failure yet continues to spitefully reach and claw and bite and grab. You hoped in a way that was effortless. A way that required little thought and minimal reserve. A way that reminded you of breathing or chewing or digesting. You inhaled plans and chewed through probabilities and digested inevitable outcomes painlessly.
The first you was curious. Not in the vindictive way that craves insider information or whispered secrets or confidential collusion. You were curious about simplistic beauties and subtle mysteries. You wanted to know why colors exploded in the morning and how stars winked at night and when existence started to matter. You inhaled theories and chewed through novels and digested the intelligent guesses of old.
The first you was eager. Not in the panicked way that pushes you to try winning an invisible race or chasing a fabricated block of cheese or comparing your fleeting successes to others’. You were eager to run for no reason and laugh inappropriately and smile regardless of crooked teeth. You inhaled moments and chewed through memories and digested every outcome that could possibly come your way.
The first you was sure. Not in the exhausting way that leaves you convincing yourself or repeating affirmations or silently debating with overworked synopses. You were sure about feelings and flailing limbs and answers to questions that had yet to be asked. You were sure about the spaces you filled and the words you spoke because who you were in an instant was all that mattered. You inhaled promises and chewed through insecurities and digested your ever-growing confidence.
The first you was trusting. Not in the apprehensive way that has you sleeping with one eye open and dipping your toes in a cold relationship pool, looking behind your shoulder for nearby lifeguards and safety equipment. You fell because you trusted you’d be caught and you cried because you trusted tears would be wiped away and you divulged because you trusted mouths would stay closed. You inhaled intimacy and chewed through confidentiality and digested affection until it was all you could comprehend.
But the second you felt your hopes crumble and now you spitefully reach and claw and bite and grab.
The third you felt the stings of curiosity and now you vindictively crave insider information or whispered secrets or confidential collusion.
The fourth you felt the exhaustion of eagerness and now you’re trying to win an invisible race or chase a fabricated block of cheese or compare your fleeting successes to others’.
The fifth you felt the embarrassment of being sure so now you’re busy convincing yourself or repeating affirmations or silently debating with overworked synopses. The sixth you felt the pain of trust so now you sleep with one eye open and dip your toes in a cold relationship pool, constantly looking behind your shoulder.
And you’re left wondering when, if ever, the next you will be anything like the first.