There was this time.
This time that I got so lost, that my wisdom disappeared, too.
I poured myself into other people as if they would somehow fix me, as if they would somehow bring me peace.
But they only brought me chaos.
And so I would cry to myself on a Tuesday afternoon. I would swear that I would not trust again after watching all of these people leave so effortlessly. How could they possibly leave my intelligence, my passion, my eagerness to love?
How could they possibly want to go when I was giving them all of the best parts of me? How could they possibly not see me?
Regardless, they walked away, just like my wisdom. The wisdom that their walking was not a reflection upon myself, but upon them.
I lost the wisdom that I was more than enough; that maybe, they just wanted the enough part,
that maybe, they just weren’t ready for the more.
So I would try to tell myself,
“Stop doing this. Stop destroying yourself.”
“And do what?” I would sneer back. “Sit at home and feel sorry for myself?”
So I kept running into nothingness anyway, into deceitful words of adoration from strangers, whose names I struggle to remember. Into touch that had no feeling.
I am a fire,
even when there are just embers sitting at my feet.
I will burn myself into the ground as intensely as I will burn myself into a chimney to warm up a room in the winter.
And so I scorched so much until I burned down a whole forest.
F*cking up every root of goodness in my life because my pain created that many flames.
And that is how I found myself here.
Picking up the black leaves,
one by one,
and planting myself back into the earth again.