Re-model

History provides the knowledge that human beings 

are not equipped with efficient methods for managing rapid change.

Those changes made by other people

that reach into your guts and pull out a piece of you with your dignity. 

I no realize that this hardware for adaptation is missing from myself as well.

I thought that I could handle change because

it was a part of life and I had everything I needed to survive already within me. 

But no, there are things I need to learn to be able to do the things that I am limited in.

This is most definitely something that I was not built to manage with myself alone.

This is taking a village, and I am assembling a bit more of it everyday.

I wouldn't even mind if the village were to fall apart when I no longer needed it. 

Then the smaller bits and pieces could branch out and form different villages. 

You cannot be a part of my village,

for you are a flame in the fire that burned my dream house to the ground. 

Without meaning to, your incendiary passion that wasn't meant for me 

caused some sort of reaction, served as a catalyst,

that I could not be stable with at all.

And for now, that is nowhere near alright as I am not alright either. 

My house is still burning to wisps of the whispers that I wish you had given to me,

but they're quiter now. 

I hush them with my tears, something to extinguish whatever was left. 

My home is beyond shambles in its wreckage but it is destined to rot 

as the dream must die.

It is but another useless limb that I must shed as I no longer have use for it,

in fact it is diseased and plaguing the rest of me. 

I've been mourning the loss for what feels like a millenia now,

though in the grand sheme of my life it has not yet even been a mesely five minutes.

That dream was a friend of mine though.

I had held it close for so long,

prepared for it to blossom and grow.

But you've created your own dream now, and you've even got your own home.

I am lost in the ashes of my own, but I hope that I'm almost out of them.

I can tell that for a long time, 

when I drive past it,

I will be compelled to stop and see through the bright yellow tape and mourn once more. 

I have so many sobs that I have not spent yet. 

Whether they are for you, though you do not deserve them,

or for my memories and thoughts that no longer have merit.

I will miss being able to have them.

I regret letting that wall down for you now.

My door would always allow the slight wind to creak it ajar,

just on the off-chance that you would at some point walk through it. 

You never did, 

but boy was I ready if you did. 

It just so happened that the wind was a bit too strong and up rose a flicker of a flame.

The warmth of your joy blew the potential of mine far off into oblivion.

It hurt.

There is no other method in explicating that sentiment other than those weak two words.

Sometimes, I wish I could drown in it and forget for a while, 

about all of it.

But I cannot forget about the roof and walls that I built around my mind

because they were my guardians, my protectors.

The vulnerability is humbling to say the least.

I don't know when I'll get my hard cap back on again to recover from the damage.

I've got some ideas for the foundation in my knapsack that will be my guide.

Until I am ready I will search my mind and the world around me for some other paths.

Perhaps one of those will lead me to the perfect land

far from you to raise myself once more.

And I will rise with stronger steel walls than before.

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace.