As of this very moment
I'm the oldest I've ever been (insert melodramatic, wrinkly face here).
When I was young,
I used to hope for
the neglect
and
the forgetfulness
of friends and family
on my birthday.
Being forgotten
meant I had a free-ticket
to wade in the deep puddles of self pity.
Buck naked.
In winter.
In a one-treed windy forest of misfortune.
Like a fading dream
I can hardly remember
How odd
How immature
How...how...
I used to be.
A picture of the present
contains a slight maturity
like black hair dye
over steel grey hair
And as I consider
precious
drawings of Mickey Mouse
and sticker-covered cards
and heart-centred
cupcakes
and
phone calls
and
visits
I wouldn't trade it
for all the self-pity
in all the world.
It only took me 33 years to get here.
1 comment:
You rock...again you pick through my brain to find truth. The good news is it took me a bit longer to get there than you.
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