I have lived in a moment for all too long, and I have longed for that moment much too strongly.

Disorient is my new direction as I resurface from my fantastical dream. I only knew what I'd created and with each repetition, I'm sure that I facilitated another new version of the memory that existed from so many years before. Was it really all familiar? After such time, I couldn't tell. I selfishly bestowed creative liberties upon myself and twisted something that was certainly beautiful enough as it existed... I couldn't tell the distorted versions now from what was realistic. I suppose when we grieve it is for our own selves and not just for the ones that we've lost. We never just lose someone else, but a part of us; a future and a narrative we have yet to see unfold has been cost. So, we rewrite all of the potentials and the outcomes that could or may have been; and we reroute our sadness into something more malleable and fictional that we can start to comprehend as real. We grieve what we wanted and what we would have created. And I kept imagining endings that I no longer hated until finally, it felt like the hurt was well enough distanced. With that, though, I distanced what goodness and love and connection we had... a sacrifice I eventually was willing to accept.

I have lived in a moment for all too long, and now of my design, I can let that moment die.