I wrote ‘move forward’ into my vision because I don’t want to trip over what is behind me. I wrote ‘move forward’ into my vision because I don’t want to be a flat character who never grows. I wrote ‘move forward’ into my vision because my father quotes the definition of insanity every time I see him: doing the same thing and expecting different results.
I wrote ‘move forward’ into my vision because I was sick with nightmares about the past and dreams about possible futures. Aspirationally, I wanted my life to be lived beyond the people I had once loved. Intellectually, I knew I could never go back.
My heart and my intellect shake hands most days, but other times, at twilight, my heart spreads out and I am caught up in what I’d rather forget.
I don’t think I’m the only one who looks at old pictures or plays out a pivotal conversation on repeat. If I had said this, would it all be different? So many moments would change if I lived them as who I am now. The paradox, of course, is that I would not be who I am now without those moments as they happened. It’s a bitter price.
I slip into present tense when it gets dark. Loved to love. Wanted to want. Hoped to hope. I let it wash over me and crash onto my asking heart while my intellect murmurs but indulges. My realism was too hard won to be eroded, but it can wait until morning.
My heart finds love in the daylight of this new life. It is full, most days. Friends and opportunities and stories and comfort.
But it dreams of what I can never have. I wake up resigned, stitching up the reopened wounds. Moving forward, some days, means applying bandages so that your old life doesn’t bleed onto your new.
The new life is good. I won’t turn back. Even if, in thin moments, I look over my shoulder.
With Love,
Natalie