In my world, it doesn’t snow, and I have no driveway that needs snow shoveling.

14 September

In this season of questions, they pile higher than my laundry pile. I shovel them out, much like snow out of the driveway. In my world, it doesn’t snow, and I have no driveway that needs snow shoveling.

Quarter-life crisis. Is this what they call this now? I’m so glad not everyone gets to this point all at the same time. What would be of this world if it did? You are in the best condition in life to do this and that and you are in the position other people would have wanted to be in. I know. Sadly it ends there in I know because all of me resists understanding and it ends up as an I know.

I say I walk in darkness. I must be wrong because the light bulbs were focused to near and to close for me to mistake brightness as pitch black. A lot of signs were on my way. Alarmingly plenty.

How could I have not seen? But why am I still unaffected? My mom speaks to me of her conversation with my dad, “Kinikilig pa rin ako kapag kasama ko si daddy.” Then she tells me he confirms he still feels the same. My parents have something to knock the socks off my hopelessness. How I’ve always been asking what there is to work for when everything is so empty and how it will be for nothing. There, I have been feeding and living off something children would’ve wanted their parents to have. It’s not an and they lived happy ever after; it’s so much more that they love each other for.  I have it. Am I not it?

They’re like kids still, both of them, tinkering on something exciting, their new projects and all. It’s shattering. I want to ask them, “Do you know where you should go?” but I’d rather not know. I want to keep them my reliable parents, conniving with them in keeping their childish magic interwoven, the gold thread perceptible only if we look closer.