The days catapult before me. The world is spinning too quickly. It gets harder and harder to retrace my steps. To figure out how I got to be here.
The years expand into eons. It gets easier for me to imagine my mother as a girl. To think about her worn-out heart—breaking for the things she couldn’t hold on to. And I wonder if I’ve let the wrong people go. When you lose a person, a whole universe goes along with them.
Sometimes I picture all my other selves, standing in line like a row of dominoes; separate but part of the same disjointed whole. How can I hold a single one accountable? No one ever walks away from love, knowing they can never go back.
By Lang Leav