The incomplete story of someone that used to be someone

(Read to “Out of It All” by Helen Jane Long)

I was once someone.  A person of value.  A person present, a person in the moment.  I knew who I was.  I was certain.  It was me.  I knew me.  I knew her.

Now, I live under the shadow of what I used to be.  Some have told me that I must let that person go.  That I need to move on.  But how can I break up with myself?  How do you let go off the one that you loved?  What if it was you whom you loved all along?  Should I let her go?

She is still here.  I can feel her inside of me.  There are traces of her in my house. Yes, I can definitely feel her in the mornings.  I can feel and see her.  I can see her making her favorite breakfast in the morning.  That seamless smile when she tastes the fresh cup of coffee in the morning.  Many don’t know this, but I do:  it is not the taste, but the scent of a freshly brewed cup that makes her eyes shine.  She used to say “My coffee is not a drink.  It is dessert.  Shh”

God, I miss her so much.  I was jealous of her, you know?  She knew who she was; and I didn’t.  She was not afraid; this feeling was a waste of time for her.  She was powerful, and she walked like a person that knew her future.  But, did she?

One day, her steps faltered.  She fell, out there… in the rain.  It was a mess.  She fell, and she could not get back up as she used to.

Today, she walks with a limp.  There are times when she has to use crutches, because she is afraid of the rain.

She is afraid of the fall.

I am afraid of the fall.


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