{Latch.}

{Latch.}

            I'm constantly intrigued looking back at my life at all the places I thought I would have been by now.  Most of my subconscious list is still untouched, and yet, internally, oh the places I have been, the things I have seen.  Maybe my journey was never meant to be one of distant miles, but a journey of internal proportions.  For that is the journey I seem never to stray from its path.  I'm constantly thinking about things.  Everything.  I look up in the sky every single day and think 'God, it is so beautiful.'  I literally lose my breath at the sight of the ocean and I am taken by the people I interact with.  I find myself lingering on them hours after they've left, years after they've passed.  My thoughts wrapped up so much in people that can't give me anything at all sometimes.  I'm closer to my sister in her death, than I think I ever was when she was alive.   I rely on her more today then I ever let her know when I could.  My mind spins at what I'm supposed to take away from the notion that I could be closer to someone in their death than I could be when they were standing right in front of me for twenty-three years of life before that.  Does that say something about the person that I was, or the person that I've become?  And in either case, am I pointing out flaws in my character or strengths?  A small testament to the walk I take daily through the twists and turns of grief and the stumbles and falls of personality building.  I change every single day.  The way I look at things, the way I react to people and what I take away from each of them.  I'm harder on myself than anyone I meet could ever try to be.  I rip myself apart for the way I wish things would happen, and the grace I wish I walked with more often.  These things I latch onto my sister for.  She had them all.  A beauty I really think so many saw, and something she rarely lacked, if at all.  If I could be just a trace of the person I think she was, God, the person I would be.  Sometimes I even beat myself up for longing for those parts of her as well.  I think 'Why are you so weak?'  She struggled.  We all do.  We all do.  I couldn’t even explicitly list off to you what I think her struggles were.  I think if I tried I'd be pretty close to right, things I silently noticed about a girl I spent all of my life with.  But is it something we sat and talked about, no.  Just as she could totally do the same for me.  She's in heaven laughing at the struggle I still try and deny daily in my quest for a life content, in one where I throw my hands up to the mercies of an over-analytical minded girl fighting with the 'but maybe's', and the 'is that what they REALLY meant' struggles I'm constantly arguing with inside, in moments I should relish in all that I don't know, but want to.  The uplifting part of me tries to remind that I am vulnerable, not weak.  I hold onto things that I should let go, because part of me wants to wait for the moment that those people turn to me and want to hold on as well.  It may never come.  The strong parts of me knows that.  I'll still hold on.  I love my life.  I love every minute of my life.  The difficult moments are hard.  So damn hard.  And still, smiling or crying, I'll walk or crawl away with something to roll about in my mind for a few days, a million days.

Truth be told, there are so so many things I lack as a person, so many things I'm desperately trying to learn.  I can't explain why I hold onto the things that I do.  Why I cherish moments with certain people,that they may not note in their lives at all… I do know, that it is those moments that have brought something to my life.  Sometimes I think we hold onto things because whilst the lesson is hard and usually painful, the knowledge is still needed.

    That’s what I think life is all about.  Exploring who we think we are, what we think should be, and in reality what we lack and latch onto just to get through…

            Your struggle is your own, and probably mine, but we are special and lovely for taking the time to recognize that it's building something in us, for something, one day, we may just figure out. 

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