Still

I’m still learning.

To say I was wrong.

To say I was childish.

To apologize first, teeth unclenched.

To say I’m working through my hurt and my emotions.

To let go of the past and live in the present.

To stop asking for validation.

To stop keeping score.

To let it all go.

I’m still working toward listening more than I explain.

To breathing in deeply when I want to explode externally.

I’m still searching for the person to grow beside me as I stretch and bend and stumble.

I’m still understanding how it feels when I spill over the edges. When I step outside the lines.

And when they do.

I’m learning to forgive but mostly to forget.

To stop the justification.

And I’m still failing.

I’m insistent they know I was right.

I demand they know they were in the wrong.

And despite the time that has passed, I struggle to know why it’s still important.

Why the pain still overshadows the indifference.

“I’m insistent they know I was right.
I demand they know they were in the wrong.
And despite the time that has passed, I struggle to know why it’s still important.
Why the pain still overshadows the indifference.”

I’m still a mixture of content and uncomfortable.

Untethered in a moment and free, arms stretched wide.

And in the next I am guarded and small and struggling.

I feel my steps moving forward toward tomorrow while my mind still glances back in the rear-view mirror at yesterday.

I take in all the things I cannot change but still carry with me, despite how heavy they are.

I wonder when I’ll finally, fully let go.

I think about the next year, and the years after that and see so many different paths I could take.

And I still don’t know which one is right.

I work toward a balance of too much and not enough. To feeding my soul but still protecting my heart.

It is enough and too much and not enough as I inhale and try to make sense of it all.

And ironically, at times, I think all I really need is just to intentionally be still.

To begin to erase the ‘stills.’