Soul searching

This is not real. There’s no way that after all these years of struggle and heartache I could come out on top. I’m not a winner, I’m a surviver.

But.

I don’t think it’s a lie either. I’ve tried to tell myself again and again that it could be some sort of cosmic hoax, that I should prepare myself to be b r o k e n. I’m very comfortable with being in pieces.

So.

If it is real, maybe all the pieces can be stitched back together. Maybe I can leave the past well enough alone and win myself a present.  And if I’m whole again, then who am I? Twelve years of being in pieces and slowly I’m unlearning and relearning me. I don’t need to be completed. I need to be complimented.

My cracks are going to stay, I couldn’t fix them with all the glue in the world.  But eventually maybe time will make them less obvious. And anyway, the Japanese say that mended things are beautiful (hah!)

If he loves me. If he really truly does. That means I can fall, right? No more fear of being caught. Fall of my own volition and pull the string to my own parachute.

Just. Don’t ask me to give all of me, please. I don’t know who I am if I’m not where I am.  Love me by wholes, not halves. I want to continue to discover all that I can be. Maybe that’s my fear. If I do say yes and fall, does that mean that I give over the control of my descent after all?

Once upon a time I was the girl crying tears of heartbreak, real or imagined. And now. Now I grin into my pillow. I wear white dresses in my dreams. I do soul completing work and then I talk to the person who fills that completed soul all the way up.

If.

This is real, don’t let me break it. But if it’s not, don’t let me wake. I want this dream. I want it now. I want it forever.
I have never been so
Utterly
Unequivocally
Happy.