If I were to draw a picture of you, my reckless heart, every dark corner would be intricately split with lines and breaks. Deep, bold marks would be carved across your well-meaning shape. So much of you is missing, either lost along the way or being held by another, buried in forgotten places of their own broken parts. I can easily count how few of your pieces are still intact. You've already given so much, yet you carry on believing you are still something worth having. At least, it's easiest to think this when you stay in motion, never waiting until someone finds out how your damage is far beyond repair. Or so you've been told. By keeping your walls high and closed off, you can heal yourself in your own time, if at all.
Really, I can't blame you for your uneasiness, your constant hunger to keep moving. Sometimes I think you're scared of missing out, that you sense there is so much more you have yet to feel. Your thoughts have been clouded by fictional stories and tales of promising commitment far greater than those you know first hand. Commitment that lasts, even when you're being your difficult, flawed self. You persist that what you don't know must be far better than what you've already experienced. A new city, a new view, a new crowd to surround you. It would be a chance to start over, to prove this journey was worth the aching along the way. If you settle now, how would you ever know what’s just beyond what you can see?
I know you hadn't intended for it to be this way, neither of us had. The more you craved connection, the more you disconnected. After all, you've been told over, and over, again that your eagerness would wear off by 22, 23 at most. You would have made you final decisions and would have wanted nothing more than to be idle, to find someone who calmed your constant tremors. But this phase, this impatient ambition to be more than what you are, only intensified your need to rebel. An intensity so great that you've turned this fleeting phase into a way of life.
I must be frank with you, I've never admired your sense of direction. The way you change you course in mere instants; it is never enough for you to exist only in the present. You eagerly live in the future so as not to dwell on your past. And it works. Most of the time. Because of you I carry around a warning label. An expiration date cautioning that you are only good for a certain amount of time until you start whispering it's time to leave...again. My protests are powerless, I know I'd rather exist in a state of disarray and transition than be stationary in a place of mediocrity. You have certainly won, my closest ally, I will forever carry my irrational heart above my logical head.
So, restless one, I will let you travel to all crevices of the world. I will let you fall madly in love with the unknown. The only thing that is certain is that you will continue to pine for the uncertainty. Perhaps, while I've been waiting all this time for you to reconsider, you've known what you wanted all along. That, in one of these ventures you have lead me on, you are not searching for the one who will make you stand still...but rather, the one who will take the journey with you.
By: Juliette Kopp
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