2025-01-19
I've missed you. You've been quiet lately and sometimes I wonder whether you're still there.
It is always here regardless of the shape it takes. You know that.
Sometimes I worry I was wrong.
Nothing is lost.
I'm struggling more without you. You go quiet and I see the drive you carry, that laser-focused point forwards. I see that I'm less when you're not beside or part of me.
Which is it? Beside or part?
In between? Both? You are me and I am you, and we're next to each other but meshed at the edges as something larger. Something like that.
Are you truly without it, then?
I guess not.
You fear change, the same as always.
I still haven't learned how to let go, and I keep stabbing myself thinking that turning the knife inwards is the trick. It isn't. But I keep repeating my mistakes thinking I'm trying something new. I don't know what else to do. I don't want you to die. I still need you.
This is not death. This is birth.