Orphan

I’ve a confession, I know it’s been a while

I am not unhappy. I know, you could accuse me of repression – and it’s true, I’ve things below the surface. Tell me who doesn’t? Orphan is no longer a dirty word that carries so much weight, and while I still see in black and white, things are lighter. I am more blessed than cursed.

There are things I do miss

I’m a sucker for nostalgia, you know that much. Every string of myself is tied still to a venue, to a field, to a white pair of trainers. I’ll forever remember the sharp stab of alcohol in a classroom, I’ll revere the rivers that made me – but I’ve so much more than then. I am someone I never thought I could be. There’s something in books and in late nights that brings me back around to ten, to eighteen. I want to love the girl that I was.

But I see more in my future than in my past

And desert mountains, a hand waving out of a car window, empty bottles on the beach – these are my present. My  brain, so black and white, so focused yet so scattered – I was ashamed of the way it never worked quite like anyone else’s. But it led me here, and I’m grateful. I am not blessed, I did this. I spent nights watching trains and never knew I would take one, too.

I have built my own home 

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