Take a road trip. See new faces. Relocate, as many times as you have to. Read. Don’t read. Lose concentration. Let someone think whatever they want without trying to resolve it. Let that ruin other opinions because it wasn’t your poison, anyway. Practice yoga. Stop practicing yoga. Practice halfheartedly. Practice half-assed, wholeheartedly.
Laugh a lot. And then, a little. Stop thinking about the other person’s feelings when you are standing up for your own, once. And let that be an unfortunate relationship, if it has to be, because at least it expressed itself somewhere.
Slap a name on a mailbox. Eat too much ice cream. Dye your hair. Buy a real bed. Collect rocks. Take pictures. Get lost in them. Get lost in the world around you, which is full of pictures, if you think of it that way.
Go out sometimes. Don’t, sometimes. Most of the time. Part of the time. All of the time. Fast. Hear what people say a lot about hindsight. Know it may not be ideal to realize afterward, but at least you did end up seeing it.
Wait for it. The day when it weaves a bit back together. Know that it will come in time, even if it feels that too much time has passed. Even if it isn’t here yet. Even if you never got to even see a glimmer of that. You do not get to decide. Your heart does.
Ask it. Ask it how. Acknowledge all that you have done and all that you did. Tell it you did those things because you wanted it to heal. And when you feel helpless to really mend it, give it
Because it matters. Because it doesn’t deserve to break every damn day. Because it is meant to feel light again. And you may have tried all these things you thought were right, but weren’t, because you are not it, so how can you know for sure. But you did it because you wanted it to mend, and now you are asking because it matters because it mattered because it is time because it deserves to be because no one has to live that way, especially not your beautiful heart
[even if it feels no one sees it, or everyone does, but keeps on keepin’ on] and then, pause
with a warm cup in the late summer evening, sunburnt with shades open, even at night, to let the moon in. Crushed mint leaves and dried rose petals, lavender and spindly twists of lemon, cool verbena and smashed cinnamon sticks.
Whirring fans and beams of light through the windows. Blinds tingling with the movement of air. Thumping dump trucks too early Tuesday mornings. Little fellas chirping in the trees. Thumbs twiddling, awake a little earlier than you need to be most days, waiting for the moment to arrive