So here’s the thing about holding an invisible candle for
someone: it’s invisible. And then you seem like the jerk who’s not willing to
pick anything up because you’re holding this fucking invisible thing. And you
feel this incredible guilt for not making other people and guilt is a thing
that I am so familiar with and you think, well, if that person can’t see the
candle either and they don’t know you’re putting it down, what’s the problem?
But they see. They see because they watch you hold the candle with baited
breath and putting it down seems like such a huge step to them and then you go
to pick up the candle again after you’ve done your share of the work and it’s
not even there anymore. Because you have responsibilities to the world, because
saying no to someone is hard, because the candle is so dim and you don’t even
know if it will last the trip with such a dull flame, with such a tiny glimmer
of hope.
I counted days. I remember that so well. I remember being
upset that I lent someone my sharpies and couldn’t update my count. But what
was I even counting for? The distance hope that things might change and
something might make everything ok. But that was just a dream. Wishes are not
horses. For all the things I’ve wished so long and hard about… Now I wish for
things I already have not to go away.
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