Square One Is Never As Far Back As You May Think It Is (Alternatively… 17 Again)

I wish I knew how to ask for reassurance.
I wish my problem was definite.
I wish I knew why I feel the way that I do.
I wish I knew where these feelings first came from.
I wish I didn’t need your reassurance.
I wish you’d know to reassure me without me having to ask.
I wish reassurance was a thing that was given constantly.
I wish confidence didn’t fluctuate.
I wish you would care enough to push.
I wish to feel you care enough.
I wish to know.
I want somebody to have my back. Why do I feel
out of touch?
Why do I feel isolated? Why do I feel
left out?
I’m not ok. I’ve felt queasy for a while.
Nervous. Except not.
The same pain, & discomfort of nerves. But…
different.

I don’t feel you caring.

When will 17 pass?

unnamed

Oct. 15, 2015. Saturday / Home

“… It’s like starting another volume of my life, which is all fine and dandy-the more volumes, the merrier-but it also makes me a bit… something that this journal- this volume doesn’t have the answers. I don’t even know if the next one will, or the one after that. But, that’s one of the reasons I write in these things, to keep looking. I’m looking. I’d like that to be known at this point in time.”

there’s a part of me still unlocking the front door

of our small saskatchewan apartment,

and there’s a part of me still

simmering in the heat of new york.

small infinities remain within,

etched, yet faded, by the passing of time.