It’s raining and so here are the words the gentle tapping of water has set free from my scarred heart stuck safely behind my ribs.
I watched these people today, in a place I am slowly finding a place in and coming to love, and I saw their souls start to crack as they anticipate saying goodbye to a set of women and I had a selfish thought: grow up-saying goodbye is inevitable. I have done it a thousand times before.
I scolded myself just after the thought became a thought. ——, I told myself, let them mourn, let them discover. You don’t know what this place means to them. And it’s true but I am mad at the world because I wish Cottey had lasted longer. I wish my camp people hadn’t scattered. I wish Iida was here.
These are old thoughts and old wounds. I simply type them into this stranger place because it is something I have not come to understand yet: why have I become so good at saying goodbye? I mean of course I know why but why. Why me and why not others? Does this world need something from me?
The water is falling. I know how to swim: fast, strong and well. Whatever you need from me world, take. I am ready to give.