Just possibly FLY.

It hurt. And it still hurts.

But I get to choose if I still want to keep doing this dance forever. I don’t. But it’s the dance I know, and learning new steps is tiring, and I might not be good at them. And these particular enemies are familiar, and I don’t want new ones. And these particular arguments are familiar, and I know my retorts by rote.

This hurt is familiar, and it’s safer to hold into the hurt I know, than to let it go and possibly get hurt in a fresh, unfamiliar way.

But I’m tethered, aren’t I? I’m tethered to them, the ones who hurt me, even after all this time. And they don’t even care, they don’t even care about me. I find their end of the rope dragging on the ground, and they’ve run off, but I chase them down and knot it to their ankle as they stride on, oblivious. Stay here and be my enemy, I beg silently, be my familiar evil. I don’t want a new hurt, a new failure. Stay here and help me be blocked, stuck, help me procrastinate by meditating on what you did, what I said, then what you said back, and how bad I felt then. Let’s ruminate and go over it all again, so I don’t have to do the clean, fresh work I would need to do to move forward, and possibly fail.

But possibly fly.

I’m so tired. Time to untie, and risk cascading into the new kinds of failures I don’t even know about yet.

Or possibly fly.

Just possibly fly.


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