Yearning, yearning

Dear you,

It's been too long. It's always been too long. The amount time itself doesn't matter; the span between when I click 'Publish' and 'New Post' buttons always feels like an eternity. Now more than ever.

A few years ago, I wrote:

'Today is February 10th 2017, and it feels like the whole world is on fire.'

And I meant that wholeheartedly. It felt like everything was changing at once in my life - I'd started hormones that fall, Trump had taken office in January, I'd just finished my short film, and I would meet my girlfriend of nearly three years in a months' time. Things were batshit crazy.

So, here we are again. Everything's still ablaze, and I'm starting to think it's a grease fire because water isn't working. It's 2020, and we've had impeachment proceedings, a pandemic, and my first surgery. Holy shit. Can I say yikes? Because, yikes. Yikes indeed.

Throughout all of this, there's been a yearning within me. Deep in my chest. I yearn for the past, for when I could breathe without thinking and smile without looking. And yet, I also yearn for the future. A future where the same is true. A future where I love myself like a flower in spring; well watered, at peace, and beautiful.

Yearning.

It's such a beautiful word, especially considering it describes the absence of something, of everything. Ironically, the word itself takes up space on this page; not unlike the past, or the future does in my chest. That spot deep within. Yearning.

We tell ourselves too many stories. Stories about when the fire was a simple ember in the breeze; stories about fires eating up the whole universe. But the reality is: none of that matters, especially right now. The fire is in front of us, and it's burning. So, focus in on this moment. Breathe in, breathe out.

We are here. Until we are not.