I Didn’t Think I’d Live This Long

I didn’t think I’d live this long. 

I mean, I never thought I was going to die or anything, but I never thought I’d make it this far. I could never vision a future for myself. Honestly, I still struggle with that. 

I’ve always been the type to chase after finding myself. Throw myself in new spaces— different jobs, friendships, hobbies— trying to find who I am. What new angle of me would I learn from this experience? 

But truth be told, I haven’t gotten anywhere— just become a jack of all trades who is still just as confused as I was before. 

Okay, that’s a bit dramatic. Maybe a little less confused since I have more life experience— but still wondrous about myself and chasing the enigma I am. 

I always know when it’s time to go. I’ve always said that I’m like a sponge. I absorb everything, then I wring myself out and throw myself into somewhere new. I’ve repeated patterns, I’ve outgrown some, and I’m sure there’s more I haven’t even uncovered yet that I will later. 

I know all the answers live inside of me. It’s just that… maybe they’re buried more than 6 feet. Maybe they’re more like multiple lifetimes deep.

Still I sit and stare at the horizon for answers. Maybe the trees know me better than I know myself. They’ve grown through the seasons with me, even ones I refuse to name. Maybe the sky understands me more. My family has always said my head has been up in those clouds. After all, we are made of stardust. 

While not knowing has been a strange experience, maybe it’s been for the best. Because if there’s one thing about life, it’s that when you think you’ve gotten it all together, life throws you a new curveball of discovery— a new version of you to uncover. In tough moments, in spectacular-on-top-of-the-world experiences, in hard work, in the ease of life; all of it. 

There was a version of me who tried to fix everything for everyone. The one who overworked herself. The one who pushed everyone away and ran. The one who stayed too long. The one full of doubt. The one full of love but was empty at the same time.

And each one showed me more of myself— even when I didn’t want to look. And no matter what, all those parts of me will always live within— hidden, remembered, celebrated. She is me. 

I am the sun and the moon. A mirror, a reflection. Maybe I’ve been staring at the moon because at least I can look at that, when the sun has been right there the whole time. 

Shining, life source, the reason anything grows…

I don’t want all my light to always just be a reflection of something else’s light. 

I don’t want to be in another’s orbit and hide myself through doing so. 

I shouldn’t have to shrink in the shade just to fit in. 

It’s time to be the sun. 

I’ll burn to shine.