A piece of me is being torn away.
I don’t need it, they say
It was temporary anyways.
But I want it back.
Have I no longer right to declare that
It was mine for some time
And it has become a part of me,
As essential to me as my heart and my lungs and my brain
And I should have a right to preserve it.
But no.
I don’t.
It was never yours, they say,
So don’t try and pretend it is now.
You had nothing to begin with,
you lived knowing that for so long,
so why can’t you return to that now?
It’s not like you can’t find more essential pieces out there;
Consider what you previously had as practice,
And find new things in the real world.
Grow up,
You’re not the first to lose a piece of you,
and it’s not like you’re losing a piece of you
You’re just being distanced a little bit,
pushed out of your comfort zone.
To be parted with the things you really don’t own,
this will allow you to grow.
But they fail to realize,
The tiniest shift in our DNA,
The smallest imperfection can lead to dramatic changes from which we cannot recover.
But who am I to assume they’d be negative?
Perhaps if I was coded a little differently,
if my A’s, G’s were arranged with a slightly different frequency
I would be better.
Smarter.
Faster.
Stronger.
The human body is an amazing thing.
Frail, and easy to mess up,
but there’s always the chance that alterations will be to my benefit.
Who am I to assume change is bad?
But a piece of me is being cruelly torn away.
Taken.
Lost.
No longer mine.
Everything that I have grown or learned to love.
Gone.
Never to be returned.
Or am I the one leaving?
Could I return? Take it back?
For so long have I missed what I felt I’ve been deprived of.
Too long, in fact.
I want it back.
And I can take it back.
Except wait- I can’t.
I am selfish.
I want to keep everything I get.
I hate giving up opportunities that come my way,
but now that I have opportunities limited to too little choices
I am at a loss.
What to keep, and what to give up?
Who am I without the relationships I take comfort in,
but who am I if I don’t pursue what I dream?
“Risk-taker,” they say we ought to be.
We ought to go out on a limb to pursue what we dream
but what is it that I dream?
My own independent career?
Or a future with those I have come to love?
Who am I, without the relationships,
without the companionships I’ve so come to value.
Without the others who are evidence that I can be likeable to some extent,
those who prove to me that I am not alone
that we all will be there for one another unconditionally,
that we needn’t be reserved or shy but that rather,
we can get through everything and anything together?
But I want something else too.
I am too ambitious for my own good, perhaps,
because I want to pursue great challenges.
Innovation.
But will I be doing that alone?
No.
There are always others,
but they won’t be quite the same, will they.
Could they be better?
Worse?
Equally good?
But I don’t want to lose those I have.
Is the risk worth it?
But do I really need them? Do they really need me?
Or do I just wish it were the case that we were essential for one another,
that being distanced from them could be related to mutating DNA,
and that consequences would be dramatic.
Perhaps I’m overthinking this.
Perhaps loss isn’t quite as grand as that,
and perhaps this really isn’t loss.
Perhaps the wisdom telling me that this is life,
the one that says that in times of strife
they will always be there for you, and you will always be there for them-
Perhaps it’s not wrong.
Perhaps relationships can last despite distances.
In fact, there are so many examples around me to suggest as much,
that of course that has to be the case.
It’s only logical.
And I do take comfort in logic.
Is it normal to worry like this?
Isn’t it?
Dunno.
I’ve already decided anyways.
I’m leaving anyways.
What is there to be done now?
Can I still hold on to something, even if it’s being broken?
Can I pick up all the pieces,
the fragments I left behind
and create something.
Perhaps a little of what it used to be,
but perhaps with a few differences.
Some new colours, arrangements.
Something new.
Better.
Perhaps I’ve been looking at this the wrong way.
Maybe it isn’t ‘loss,’ that which I am experiencing.
After all, life is changing,
life is challenging,
but there is so much evidence that separation isn’t permanent.
Perhaps we’re all about to grow in new ways.
Perhaps we’re all about to pave our ways into the future,
Into the great realm that humanity will build in the near future,
and somehow,
someday,
we will meet once more.
We will recall our pasts together
share our growth,
and the loss I thought would be so permanent
will have been nothing.
