Wait, that’s not right. I think I’m just tired and everything seems a little bit worse when it’s dark outside. Or maybe I got my hopes up just in time to turn around and see someone dashing them? I could be sad. That old sadness. The one I thought I’d murdered, boxed, burned and scattered at sea. Or I might be out of faith.
I am sore. I am in the 15th month of a rocky, unpredictable climb to a shrouded summit -if it even exists. I am tired of uncertainty, and unwilling to let the current reality be certain. I am angry that I am not better at this. I am tired of crying within myself. I am unwilling to give up. I will entertain only one option, winning.
I am not alone. I am more fortunate than many. I am well-supported. I am grateful.
I am not afraid. I am frayed. Worn thin. See-through. A two color, vellum cut-out of what I once was, not even what I wish to be.
I am going to change that. One word at a time.
Hello, I’m _In Transition_,
how are you? please give me a hug.