Because all good things come to those who
wait.
And grit their teeth and
dig fingernails into palms
and scream and cry inside their heads
and just try to remember to breathe.
To those who spend all energy trying to
hope
that there will be a moment, soon
better than the last one, better than this
one.
I have been running away for so long and I’m
so tired of it.
The anecdotes and jealousy in other people’s
eyes
as I drop in to move on
is not enough.
Perhaps never was.
But I don’t know what else to do,
how else to be something that is not a
funny story,
a pack with my life in it,
a goodbye hug,
a fleeting, transitory blink
in the lives of the people I love
and need.
And leave.
