All these pieces of the past, wrapped in yellowing paper and stored in my head and heart… if there was a way to take each one and lay them down end to end, make a book of my life for you to read, few might believe the tales within.
A snapshot of me, innocent face slowly erasing away as I watch the world I thought I knew rolled back like a carpet to reveal the dirty floor below.
Chasing ghosts, illusions, lies and chimeras.
Falling. Getting back up. Falling again.
Shatter. Piece myself back together. Music, friendship, writing were my glues. Love was my downfall time and again.
I played at being okay.
It was pretty obvious that I wasn’t.
How I made it this far is something almost incomprehensible. But here I am! Alive and kicking, as the song goes.
One day, I’ll write that book. One day, I’ll tell that tale.