Cutting Ropes

Yesterday was the last day those thick ropes held me to the ground.

You told me it wouldn't be for too long, and I didn't believe you. Screaming at you in my mind through the cracked pieces of my life that I tried not to let you see, I didn't believe you at all.
But you were right.

Time is my friend, and it helped untie me, slowly but surely, picking through the intricate knots with its delicate fingers.
Time was always my friend, and she didn't fail me this time either.

I had almost forgotten what it felt like to walk without gripping onto a crumbling wall, but yesterday, I walked away, leaving it to crumble by itself.


I'm tired now, but tired in a different way.
I'm tired of the constant rumination. I'm tired of being sad. I'm tired of feeling like my youth is slipping through the cracks of my fingers every second that I sit idly, staring at the blank spaces on my wall, wishing for gold dust in a sandy desert.


"Sadness is easier because it's surrender."
Who's surrendering here?
I've wrestled life for a year, and I've got the upper hand now. At least in this part of my life.


I am a butterfly, peering out of her freshly shed cocoon to see a new life.
I am the grass that sprouts from the cracks of the broken, dirty cements blocks of the sidewalk after being crushed underneath season after season.
I am a voyager setting out into space with a new mind and a backpack of old perspectives.
And now I'm shaking the frosty winter snow from my frozen branches under a newly emerging sun.



Hello, world.