Writing

My Hands Are Full

There’s a few doors I’ve locked and tossed the key, yours is one of them.

See here’s the thing, if you wait long enough time is going to tell you all the things you’re afraid to say out-loud. It’s going to tell you it’s over, going to tell you that it’s not going to turn out, it’s going to tell you’ve royally screwed things up and if you listen hard enough you’ll know what to do about it.

If you think I was too far to receive a response, I finally received it. It wasn’t emailed or written on a postcard—that would be asking too much. The whole world could know with a loose mouth like that, not that they’d care though. It would just be another one of those things people see coming. News like that, you’d think it would be enough to leave someone in tears but theres a degree of foolishness someone can reach, then things become pathetically humorous. The devil may care. Write a book about it. How to: Become Unrecognizable in 6 Months, you never know it might be recognized by the New York Times. Line the shelves with it, we mustn’t sell our selves short now, shall we?

I could’ve said no and stayed back in that small town. Yet, things didn’t align. They didn’t align and I wish I could’ve told the girl back in September that amongst the many reasons she was meant to be thousands of miles away, this was going to be one of them. It would’ve made focusing a little easier. Who saw it coming? Speak now or forever hold your peace.

If things don’t feel right, drop them.
If they’re not aligning, stop there.

If you know what’s coming there is no use in changing it’s name and disguising it. If you are ever faced with the choice to choose between the kind of love you can’t find words for and a chance to find even more to love, I’d say go with what scares you the most.

There is a freedom in having nothing left to lose. Love doesn’t come last, not the faithful kind. Sometimes it takes going places and risking coming back with empty hands to be able to know that there really isn’t such a thing as coming back empty handed. Love doesn’t come last, the lustful surrogate kind does. That kind always leaves you piss drunk in a city you can’t stand, alone and believe it or not that kind of love, it plays life too safe. If I could warn the town, I would but that’s not my place, not my pill to swallow.

You don’t need me to tell you whats coming.

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