For the first time in my life, I feel happy. It’s strange. And it’s foreign to me because it doesn’t come along all too often.
I have a job, I have new friends, and I have a bright future ahead of me if I’m willing to take a leap.
I had things holding me back. I had tethers. Friends, family, love…
But I’ve since come to find myself alone, and this time around, instead of being a dark hole I can’t seem to escape, it’s a light shining from within me that could blind Tim Peake on the ISS.
It’s thrilling, this feeling. I chased it for years before it found me and said, “Hey, I’ve been here the whole time.”
It takes time to be okay. It takes work. It takes… patience.
I think back on my poem, “My Rose.” It’s about a person I thought I loved for the longest time. Is it a sin for me to want that rose back, as beautiful and deadly as it is to me? I think so. I think my heart chases after things below my potential, things that can’t grant the feelings I desire to hold close.
Once I stopped chasing, once I stopped fighting, once I stopped running away– I realized I had nothing to fear.
I am okay. And that’s just okay.