Every now and then, I miss being little. It wasn’t that great, but it wasn’t that bad, either. Not till later. Later, it was bad. That’s not the part I miss. I miss being little.
And every now and then, I’m not sure I trust my opinion anymore of what has happened here. Too much has happened, too many things have been said and lost and I don’t know whose fault it all was.
And every now and then, I miss the old days … whatever they were. Friends, freedom, possibilities, choices. All that seems a long time ago, unreachable, untouchable. Another time altogether.
Every now and then, I wonder why I made the choices I made. Because every single thing is a choice. Would I do things differently? At what cost of now?
And every now and then, I cry. I cry for me, I cry for my children. I cry because there’s just nothing else to do.
Every now and then, I feel bad. I feel bad for me, I feel bad for others, I feel bad for the world.
Every now and then, I am so mad. Mad at everyone and everything. But why? Who to be concerned with but my own self, my own life?
And every now and then, I wonder about paths taken, paths not taken, paths presented, paths never presented. Do paths even exist? Or is this just the way it is?
Every now and then, I just feel tired. And I’m too young to feel so tired.
Every now and then, I feel lonely. And alone. And terribly misunderstood, judged, belittled.
And every now and then, I feel genuinely happy and hopeful and inspired and alive.
The reality is, as much as I don’t want to, I know that I have to accept all the other every now and thens, however unpleasant and uncomfortable and exhausting and consequential, to appreciate that last one. We can’t really know what happiness is if we’ve never experienced the darkness. And we can never truly move forward if we’ve never been held back.
Maybe that’s what the darkness is all about … coming out on the other side, where it’s light … once you find the courage and the grace to get there.