The Moments I Hold Dearest

I’m scared of becoming all the parts of myself I resent the most. I feel the uncomfortable transition happening as time holds my hand and we walk forward to gather, forever uncomfortable in each others presence. As if it evokes an honesty neither of us can confront. I’ve lost sight of joy, only living in realistic timelines and to do lists.

Most days I find I can’t hold onto the joy from the small moments. It’s feels fleeting, bleeding through my fingertips, like a non-newtonian fluid, as if it was never mine to hold in the first place.

The "big moments" play out like a theatre around me
I play my role as best I can,
trying to fulfill expectations and impress those who impress me.
A canvas onto which they project their wants and needs
A desperation flooding my senses
To fulfill the role, fulfill the fantasy
To fill the void in my heart where an ache for acceptance and validation swells
To find myself here again
Again, sitting next to joy and pride on the side of the road
All of us waiting to be called upon by our true owners
A joy and pride that never belonged to me.
It was never mine.
It’s ok though.
I didn’t want it anyway.

But didn’t I?
I seek it out in the dark recesses of my mind
And I leave them here for you all to read
Because I somehow feel safer in the caress of a strangers mind
The things I’ve done that have brought me closest to that feeling of fulfillment,
Are the ones overlooked,
Unimpressive to those who are comfortable being held dear by my heart.
And that’s ok too.
Because then maybe I can hold this joy just for me.
Untainted.
Hidden beneath my world’s roaming gazes, hungry for the accomplishment and joy that has always been theirs to feed upon,
momentarily satiated, the players in the theatre of my life sleep in the hollows of my heart,
as I’ve never felt more alone, forgotten,
a wraith drifting along the lull of their heavy hot breaths.