Do you ever pass by a window and see yourself?
But it isn’t you.
It’s figments of a person you use to be.
An image of the person you could have been.
Is it all still you?
At 6:00a.m. this morning I found myself over a sink scrubbing away at an overflowing pile of dishes from nights before. I always find it interesting what wonders into my mind when my brain doesn’t really have a place to be. Instead of sitting their thinking “scrub, scrub, scrub” my brain took a trip throughout my life. Why this happened at 6:00a.m. over a dirty sink full of dirty things I do not know.
Somewhere in the clouds of thoughts floating around my head I managed to find my way back in Jr. high. Back to a small, pimple covered kid with greasy, shaggy, hair and lots of oversized hoodies. Somehow I thought this was my prime. Thankfully I was wrong.
In the first stop I take on my journey back in time I am laying on the ground. Not by intention but situation. Returning to the frail body I once carried around, it’s cold. Not the floor alone, my body alone, the hallway where I reside “unconscious” alone, it’s the entire story as a whole. Cold.
My audience weeps for me. As it appears I had taken my final bow. I can put on such a show. I am brilliant in that way. Every moment of my life is replaced with a scene. I am the actor. They bend to the will of my drama.
I have yet to confess my greatest sin to them or me. Greatest being an obvious overstatement. I am a junkie. I thrive from the thrill. I might as well be dead being an adrenaline addict. Dead is pretty much where I felt I was.
It was all for the rush. In the moment it was justified. In the future it was a joke. It all turns into a joke when it’s over.
Fueled by things I did not know; I went the hasty route. Moving like lightening but I struck like thunder. I slap her. He stabs me. All done by my own hands. I did take a minute to for my eyesight. But the result was a lifeless skeleton, with a brain slowly turning to mush.
But I feigned it there for a while. I did not know what to do. How do you make a comeback from an ending like that one? There was limited space for a sequel.
I managed in the end to find my way back to where I needed to be. I was able to be a mad man. I was able to celebrate and continue to make my mistakes. 8th grade. How conflicted I was. But to me it was perfect. I thought I’d found who I wanted to be. How I wanted to be it. Some things have engraved themselves deep inside of me and will not change. Those are my roots. They stretch far past my broken bones.
Dear Eight Grade Miles,
You are young. But you know you are wise. Wisdom is your door to age. You are old souled. Your spirit is what is young. You understand your world. The place you live. Not everyone will get that, you won’t always get that. You my beautifully alive friend are on the perfect track. I know you are certain in this person you have become; I know he is who you want to be. He isn’t bad. But it isn’t who you are. There are aspects that make you feel the way you do when you look in the mirror and are overwhelmingly joyed. Those are the things that are you, that will remain you for all of time.
I want to cry with you. Over everything. What a perfect release. We need it. Tears of wasted life so we can live again. Don’t fight yourself when they want to flee. You deserve every once.
I would hold you if I could. Tell you that everything is going to be wild. That there is comfort to be found in our life. I would let you know not to worry too much because you’ve created a masterpiece in the rough. I want you to be proud always. Humble. You are the universe. The hilariously slow stars, the overhanging, underrated spot, the moon. You dance with the planets, you’re a force. The wave. You aren’t moved. You move. I would give it all for you.
Your dreams aren’t but a heartbeat away precious boy. Their waiting to be claimed by their owner. They need you to take the wheel. Drive slow in their lane, excel in yours. Give, give, give. Love. Feed your body and soul. Nurture it with the truths of your life. Be whole Miles. Be whole. Linden, who prays for you. Who Loves you. Who shapes you still. Be whole for her. Be you for her. Take from her. Learn. Live. You do not need to survive. You need to be free of your chains. Let go.
Bundles of strange things.
Write what is untold. Miles. It is all in your hands.
You’re magical. You always have been.
Love is your threshold. But you, Miles Andrew Weimer. You’re magical.
