Sometimes I wonder what became of my mind. How it stops abruptly and sinks back into things I wish I could forget. I’m all over the place- I’m racing myself. I’m accepting things that happened, but questioning the meaning. I’m saying sorry to God for the distance. I’m rushing home while trying to define what that place means to me. I miss pieces of my old life. There’s a period after every memory. A punctuation mark making it feel permanent- this sense of finality I can’t bring myself to understand. It all has to end at some point. Maybe that’s what weighs on me- back arched and neck bent from the pressure. “Stand up straight, this is all part of your story, so be proud”. My father would tell me. I believe in things I can’t see. I believe in healing messily and unfolding while the world tries unraveling pieces of my sprit. I believe in being human and the beginnings and endings and why we need both in order to give it life. I belive in becoming. Define it like growth. Pulling and twisting and weighing. Let it root you. Plant you. Bloom on and on until you cant even remember what the rain felt like . -AMT©️