It is to be buoyant!

There is a panic that lives in the open blue, 

the dizziness of the legs when they kick against nothing,

the instinct to seek the floor, 

the reassuring grit of sand beneath the heel,

the yearning to stand on something named, not something formless. 

This is the tension between fluidity and structure, the dizziness of looking within and not knowing yourself.

Look down, see the gradient fade, turquoise to navy, navy to the absolute black of the unknown self. 

There is no bedrock there. 

No stone where the name is carved.

No foundation to hold the weight of a history.

The vertigo is the realization that the vessel has no anchor, that self does not exist.

Watch the body when it stops fighting, when you stop looking for yourself,

the moment that desire for solid earth is released, the water accepts your weight.

The lack of a floor = the gift of suspension

What cannot be stood upon can still be floated through. This is ocean and not concrete.

To be undefined is not to be lost. It is to be buoyant! 

underneath lies a soft exterior, you are still walking in red light

Your presence burns bright in my memories long after we’ve parted ways, 

and in spite of being pierced by your cruel words the same way you would see a sourdough bread be cut open,

my true opinion of you hasn’t changed.

Underneath the harshness lies a soft exterior, 

one that can love and be loved, one that is kind and gentle, 

for your sake (but mostly mine), I choose to remember you that way. 

Call it delusion if it isn’t compassion, even I will never know.

So while you’ve villainized me and CTRL+X’ed everything we’ve ever had together, 

I consciously choose to remember the good days with a smile instead of sorrow.

That being said, the grief you caused me does haunt me at night, 

where in my dreams you take the form of a devil washed in red light.