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resolute
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Literature Text
this year, my resolutions won't be stuffed into my bedside drawer. i'm not going to roll them up like a cigarette, small and deadly, and tuck them into my pocket. i won't let them rot there, and remember them only when they're small, pilly pieces on my favorite sweater when it comes out from the dryer, forgotten by the time i pull each piece off, letter by letter.
because i've never realized until now, but my resolutions are the outline for a book that's always misplaced or miswritten, so coffee stained and battered that by the time the winds of december come to turn its pages, there isn't a single word to touch. because, instead of my novel or a chapter, i write myself an anthology. i title it regrets and feed it to the fire, burn away the past year and my chance at every single thing i could have learned.
but this year, before i sliced open the spine and tore out each and every syllable, i stopped. i read.
and, for once, these aren't regrets, but things i know i need to change.
because i've never realized until now, but my resolutions are the outline for a book that's always misplaced or miswritten, so coffee stained and battered that by the time the winds of december come to turn its pages, there isn't a single word to touch. because, instead of my novel or a chapter, i write myself an anthology. i title it regrets and feed it to the fire, burn away the past year and my chance at every single thing i could have learned.
but this year, before i sliced open the spine and tore out each and every syllable, i stopped. i read.
and, for once, these aren't regrets, but things i know i need to change.
i. i swear to learn to press down on the gas pedal of a car without leaving it in park, to sit in the driver's seat without shaking, and to remember to breathe when i finally pull out of the driveway.
ii. i will read the written word, plow through my stack of fifty cent paperbacks saved from library sales and stay awake reading instead of lying in bed at night staring at my wrists or counting the cranes pinned to my ceiling each morning.
iii. i will keep a journal, and write no less than once a week, at least five lines. and there will not be just sadness --i will write about love and exhilaration and small things, like good cups of coffee with good people i've yet to know and dusty flea market treasures.
iv. i will not be unrealistic. i will not demand of myself never to put my fingers down my throat again, or to never place a blade to my skin. i will simply ask that i try, and forgive when trying is not enough.
v. i will try to find closure. i will write letters and send them out to sea this may in the same waters where my sorrow grows. i will allow myself to cry until i feel i have let enough sadness out that, were i to swim then and there, i would not sink or want to.
vi. i will stop fearing life. i will stop fearing love. i will remember that if life is an ocean, it is for it's beauty, not it's depth. and that love is not an anchor, but a buoy if you let it be.
ii. i will read the written word, plow through my stack of fifty cent paperbacks saved from library sales and stay awake reading instead of lying in bed at night staring at my wrists or counting the cranes pinned to my ceiling each morning.
iii. i will keep a journal, and write no less than once a week, at least five lines. and there will not be just sadness --i will write about love and exhilaration and small things, like good cups of coffee with good people i've yet to know and dusty flea market treasures.
iv. i will not be unrealistic. i will not demand of myself never to put my fingers down my throat again, or to never place a blade to my skin. i will simply ask that i try, and forgive when trying is not enough.
v. i will try to find closure. i will write letters and send them out to sea this may in the same waters where my sorrow grows. i will allow myself to cry until i feel i have let enough sadness out that, were i to swim then and there, i would not sink or want to.
vi. i will stop fearing life. i will stop fearing love. i will remember that if life is an ocean, it is for it's beauty, not it's depth. and that love is not an anchor, but a buoy if you let it be.
vii. i will stop trying to shrink, and learn to grow.
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for the lovely =Sammur-amat's contest 2013 and a time machine
i feel as if i kept this a bit simple as a literal list, but i suppose i needed it done this way.
step one: keep reading
step two: pick a journal, new or old and started. write.
step three: make use of the permit you got today. don't cry again, even if it is from happiness.
step four: remember personal "starter meal plan". eat. take medicine for reflux so it won't be as terrible.
--and continue.
i feel as if i kept this a bit simple as a literal list, but i suppose i needed it done this way.
step one: keep reading
step two: pick a journal, new or old and started. write.
step three: make use of the permit you got today. don't cry again, even if it is from happiness.
step four: remember personal "starter meal plan". eat. take medicine for reflux so it won't be as terrible.
--and continue.
© 2013 - 2024 AlloenDreams
Comments16
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Darling, I haven't been able to read your work in quite some time, but now I remember just why I've fallen in love with it--with you. You are so strong, so brave, so wonderful, and such an amazing friend 