My life feels almost perfect, even in all the ways it still fractures and bends. Little cracks could stand to be filled and loose ends will always be better tied. But even with these live wires exposed to the perfect storm of my world, I feel like I’m standing in the eye for the first time.
You watch as the others around you seem to find their paths. They’re ferried on to the destinies that you must assume are tailor made for them by the way they start forward with little consequence. And yet every time I’ve trekked with intention, nettles cross my path. Trees fall and lightning strikes. But it was never a surprise; the hair on my arms stood up. I’ve always known when I’ve been on the precipice of making wrong choices. I’ve felt the unease in the air seep into my skin like an osmosis of trepidation.
I’ve stood at the crossroads and I’ve waited for it to be my turn to be ferried down a path with certainty. And it’s not lost on me that I sleep better next to you than I do alone. That I feel fuller when I can sense your steady presence in the room. That the air doesn’t feel charged with particles ready to shock. Here in the eye, the air feels like soft kisses on my shoulders. The world ceases its infernal rocking. I’m standing at the crossroads and I feel ushered down a certain path.