Stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone ought to be.

Pull yourself up off the floor.

Life is hard but you have responsibility to yourself

to live and do and be.

To find that meaning.

Last night I was ready to decide that there wasn't any.

I forgot my defiance and sometimes I lose my way,

but damn it all, I will figure out my shit.

I will find my self.

*

The way it goes.

Remember almost four years ago?

We were all so fucking obnoxious and loud,

the weirdoes, mismatched and broken.

We were falling in love, we were angry,

we were scared, we were hopeful.

I don't want to go back, but some nights like this night,

[and last night, for a bit with Clara]

I like to revisit being 14 and on the edge of something.

I don't know what it was still,

but it was something crazy.

The beginning of growing up?

I thought I was so ready to take on the world.

I like to think there's still that other me,

existing there in the past.

I love all of you, then and now. 

You'll never know but

Most nights, when we're tucked up in your sheets

and you're asleep,

I lie awake and miss you.

I'm in your arms,

you're mumbling in your sleep,

and when my mind finally gives in,

it's time to go home,

sleep alone.

We'll meet on the interweb or in person

or on some other astral plane,

and you'd kiss me goodnight,

tell me not to worry.

"I'm still here."

*

Heehee.