Annual Profection

twenty six

The same feeling lingers.

Last year I attempted to dismiss its validity, even when it bore its teeth at my feet.

It’s difficult to remind my heart that situations change and pass. Reaching my 26th year has been a tumultuous battle with the versions of myself that yearn to cling to the past.

This year my heart broke as I attempted to bravely accept that life will continue to outpace me. Some of those I love forgot my birthday, a handful pretend that I no longer exist.  I mourn their presence. They flicker in my mind as I watch the candles melt. The cake is held by those who support my fragile edges. My body weeps in ways that I am no longer familiar with, as my eyes remain dry.

I try to remind myself that the only constant of life is change. Yet, I silently watch my younger self remain lonesome. I want to tell her that there is more to look forward to. But the gifts I bear are hollow and empty. I fail at withdrawing her from the past, and I’m left alone to quicken my solemn pace.

I’m recognising that the balance delivered can take longer than expected to even out. People love me in ways I am yet to understand. I know that the ones that made an effort to remember me do not want to be forgotten. But my heart does a poor job of multitasking in a sea of grief. I hold a mirror up to inspect my face, yet all I can see is what stands behind me.

I remind myself that loneliness isn’t inherently terrible. That it is part of the expansiveness of the human condition. But none of these words make it easier to swallow the fact that I crave cavernous connections.

I’ve always felt that I have been the incorrect puzzle piece next to some that I hold dear. I no longer hold the capacity to forcefully meld our sides together. My hesitance is aware of the rift that this retreat creates, and so with raw palms I have continued to hold on.

As the years go by, I have to force myself to let go. To no longer deform my posture in an attempt to fill the absence of others.

I am unsure if I am ready to begin my next journey orbiting the sun with so much grief on my shoulders.