Gone

 Is there ever a soft way to confess,

" I have lived and I think its time for me to go. "

I do not ever want to send the wind your way with her trembling hands declaring the loss of me, to deliver the absence and the lightness that would come over this world when I am gone. For someone who has only lived a measly 27 whole years on this giant planet so small compared to planets I thought were smaller (yes, you, Uranus and Nepupapa), I talk about leaving a lot. Like an old tree in a silent backyard that watches generational love and trauma handed around at the dinner table, that knows all the music in the living room by heart and all our nasty secrets.

27 years, my life about 10 years slower than everyone else. I remind myself I am seventeen because when I was 17, I was actually 87. 

If I were gone, would you think of me more? 

I keep asking myself why the idea brings me so much faith. my days have been long and heavy and I can physically feel the weight of them in my shoulders, even my fingers hurt today,

but quite surprisingly my dreams have been beyond pleasant. filled with serene waters, laughter and true soul friendship, love and kissing and open air, forests and beautiful places and just me running around- wind in my majestic hair, my loud laughter encompassing the entirety of the sky.

I am climbing ropes and jumping into waters, I am swinging and touching underwater rocks with the daring but gentle graze of my toes, I am jumping into leafy lakes of browns and dark blues and mud greens and I am everywhere and nowhwere and everywhere at once.

and yet I wake up and I think of you and I think of being gone.

something beautiful happened the other day, I dont remember what and I felt so at peace that I thought,

oh this has happened to me, I have lived long enough to experience this,

I can go now, I can go.

to be gone. 

Why do I want to be gone so bad?

today I found out the lyrics to a song I love deeply (Hai Cheng by The 8)  and will never bore of holds within it the deepest of all my feelings that I could never allow to get past the jewel embedded walls of me.

and yet,

I thought then, I thought,

someone has put me to words. someone knows the feeling of the years that lie in wait and the moments that gather around me like snow,

and how the only way forward is through.

And someone knows how that feels. 

To reach a hand through the dark of the night, hoping against the open window that you just might miraculously brush against the cheek of someone you have loved for so long without ever having met their existence in this lifetime.

And that is a song. Someone carved out a song and knit me into it.

But now that its out there, all these things I could never tell you, I am so at peace.

I can go. I can,

I can be gone now. 

It wouldnt break my heart anymore because now its out there, the way I miss you every waking minute like a crazy person and yet its the realest thing about me.

your constant, biting absence is the realest thing about me.

who would I be if I am not the anti-existence of you?