Before Love

The first kick, a full throw, or picked up bat — who put you there? Introduction is one thing, but repetition is an insane type of exposure. A hunger possesses in you with each impending trial; run boy, faster than you should. Sure, you can strive for perfection, place it near the horizon, let the sun blind you meltingly. But one day you’ll rest in the aches, your muscles screaming louder than in the face of glory, and you wonder.

Who were you, before it all started?

Before you picked your head up, and looked at the person a-front of you, eyes glistening with memorization. Their stance, the curve of their lip, throwing your stomach a tumble. Twitch feelings in your hand, like fire from a lighter, only to be pooled by hot nerves. No sensation can be displaced from here; nothing can compare. A cycle of toppling self-esteem channels every time you seek reflection, and you wonder.

Who were you, before it all started?

Is it the addiction to the new — the rush, the high, we’ve become eager to feel on mundane days. Where your face flushed in excitement, something that finally touches your soul; an answer to your prayers if I must taste your belief. Maybe this is why you do the things you do. 

What I do know is the painful person you can become after it all. Whenever you tag a moment with emotional content, it is bound to burn in your brain. Consider it another fissure to the ones you were born with, or the scar your brother gave you after pushing you on the sidewalk. 

When a situation doesn’t go as followed or expected, it’s the affliction the boils in us, creating wounds that will take years to scar up. We cook and cook and cook hoping for one day to not burn the pot, but still fuck up from the lack of attention. 

I guess this is the part where I’m supposed to say be strong or fight on! I’m not — it’s cliche and expected and typical. Keep fucking up, keep making mistakes, regardless of your age. Only certain people in your life can have a true say, for they know and/or see who you can become. Time will do what needs to.

Who are you now, after it all started?

Photo Credit: Khaki Bedford Photography