clairvoyentvale

“I think that’s the thing about goodbyes. We say them too often, but it’s also never enough.”

I asked myself one day. Do I say goodbye too easily? Should I spend more time watching things drift away?

Or is it enough to wish them well and part ways without another word?

Even if my goodbye is silent?

Even if I hide my tears every time?

Human attachment is a funny thing – we hold onto things too tightly.

Even old ghosts that no longer exist. Like the idea of things can preserve them in time.

Death escapes those who want it but also clings to them. Like a longing for better days.

“You’re right around the corner. I can see you from here.”

Maybe it is a gift to be seen. Or maybe it is a greater gift to be known – even if your eyes cannot comprehend the darkness inside of us.

And I ask one day – many days: “Am I too much?”

A cursed question. Really a cursed dialogue.

Because many say to be seen is to be known. But you don’t know me at all – do you?

I see “me” in the mirror every day, but I don’t recognize his/her/their face.

I am too much in that my emotions swallow me whole. They’ll swallow you too if you let them.

And I think there is a greatness in that. A weight. A weight so heavy that we’ll both drown.

Can the rain make a great ocean? Or an oasis?

I see puddles of water everywhere. The aftermath.

To an ant, a puddle is a great ocean, no?

So why won’t the rain drown me? Why do I feel life in its breath?

And why do I see you on every corner, even though I already said goodbye?

You have stolen every moment from me.

But – I think without your reflection – I could never exist again.