the weight of wings

my last teen summer has sprinted its way into fall, kicking the leaves into a flurry of bittersweet memories. i wrote poems, but they didn’t sound the way i wanted them to; it was easier when i was 8, to write what i saw. there was never any meaning behind it, nor did i look for it. now i look for it everywhere, behind each heartbreak, each disappointment, every morsel of joy.  i must give meaning to everything because otherwise i float in a pool of not knowing; a pool that slowly grows until it might eventually become a sea of questions.

what if i drown in doubt?

i’m on the brink of the nest, teetering dangerously close to the edge, about to swan dive into this pool i so fear. when will i know anything for certain? i can admit i know that two twos are four and that the sky is sometimes orange and pink and yellow (occasionally blue) but when will i become my final version?

are my wings fully spread, ready to fly off into a sky littered with adventures and stories yet to be told?

sometimes i plunge into the depths of my duvet, burrowing further and deeper, hoping i might burst out of the rabbit hole like Alice once did. it would make more sense than the upside down we live in now, plagued by senseless, grey wars and constant uncertainty.

as my 1 turns into a 2 and 9 turns into 0, i live in a constant paradox. i’ve felt so little yet so much at the same time; true heartbreak, betrayal, the depths of despair - been so shattered that i feared i would never find the pieces rattling inside of me.

but i’ve also felt so much love- it envelopes me as it shape shifts into its many different forms. i know love exists because my veins run full of it; i know i am loved because i feel it. i am nothing if not a puzzle of everyone i’ve ever loved. some pieces have glued themselves to my soul, others are slowly peeling away. but i carry a piece of love with me wherever i go, making me incapable of letting someone go. i would never choose to forget anyone, because it would mean to forget a piece of me.