Sunday, July 5, 2020

I Refuse To Leave Angry

Over a year since I have posted anything that didn't have to be deleted. That seems about right.

I'm right now editing a book that has proven incredibly difficult for various reasons. It's my book. My poems from the last ten years. 

The main issue is that in order to edit it I've had to go through files compiled over the past ten years countless times looking for design elements and pieces I need for the book, but every time I do this I come face to face with the past ten years. Or what's left of it in pictures, poems, and countless pieces created with someone who is gone.

It's a book about people who are gone, and in order to edit the book I have to spend a lot of time with their ghosts to ensure the story I tell is about love, creativity, and the best days of my life, not the pain of losing it. 

So, like someone walking through fire, my impulse is to hurry. Because every time I have to go back into that fire it hurts more and more. 

But my reality is such that I may not have the time to ever finish another book, so this is it. I have to endure that fire hopefully just a while longer so that others will not be burned if I am careless. 

One of my conflicts has been wanting to tell a whole story. My story. And I thought that meant leaving in details about pain and loss. But as I get closer and closer to pressing the button that sends the final copy to the printer none of that seems to matter. 

I loved and was loved. Incredibly. I created magnificent things with the love of my life. No one hardly ever gets that lucky.

I have to fade out on a sour note, it seems, but I don't have to leave the stage angry, feeling cheated, or leaving behind a legacy of bitterness or ingratitude. 


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