I’m not looking for someone to pick up my pieces. I don’t even think I want to pick up my own pieces. For some reason I’ve never seen the healing in that, holding all of those broken, jagged, cracking remnants in your hands. Your palms are getting cut and you are bleeding and suddenly everything is so much heavier, everything is much more crowded- you can’t grab other things because your hands are so full. Sometimes I think it’s just better to let the broken pieces be broken and leave them where they fell. We always rebuild, we are always becoming new- what we lose will surely be replenished someday. I guess I’m just trying not to think about the empty spaces or the somedays and when they will come, I’m mostly just trying to focus on not floating away from how light I’ve gotten after all of these losses.
I think you’ll regret it someday, letting go. I think you’ll find yourself sitting at a table with a beautiful girl and you’ll say “let’s go pitch a tent under the stars” and she will roll her eyes. You’ll take a sip of your coffee and you will think of me. I hope you find yourself in lots of moments in this life where you picture me by your side, that you come across lots of places you know I’d melt at their sight, I hope you tell jokes that some people just don’t think are funny and that you remember how hard I laughed at them. I hope gravity pulls you under and reminds you that I helped you float in the clouds. I hope these things though they leave a bitter taste, because I know that they come from a place of brokenness. And though it baffles me, I still wish you the best, I always have, I really always will. I can’t not wish you the best.
I wish you the best. I wish you the most. I hope you find grace at the tips of the mountains and I hope you find meaning in the valley’s. I hope that most of your life is spent under blue skies and you rarely find yourself in the rain, and when you do I hope you toss your umbrella and dance in the damn downpour. I hope you still tell jokes, even if no one slaps their knees when you get to the punchline. I hope you let yourself soften, understand that not every stone needs to be sharpened, the smooth flat stones are the ones that skip the furthest, remember? You of all people know that. And if you don’t remember any of these things, remember this, that when days get long and life gets heavy, I will always be somewhere, under the moon laughing at the same puns as you.