Dear Future Me,

Stop hitting rewind.

On the nights spent tossing and turning

on tear stained pillows and blurry ceilings,

waiting for it all to collapse

into the exhaustion that rests in your bones

like the white cat that sleeps outside on icy nights.

On the conversations and apologies that were taken for granted;

choking on the five letter word like a disease.

In spite of your determination and high hopes.

You were meant to inhale the steamy showers,

to let your eyelids fall

and lose your thoughts under a rhythmic downpour,

smoldering craters beneath your skin.

To wear the plastic smiles like mismatched socks.

You’ve been counting the days on your fingers,

stuck in a retrograde.

Replay none of it, not one of the remorseful words you pitched at the ones you loved.

Not one of the unruly decisions left unmade, like your bed on Sunday mornings.

when waking up to the steady hum of thunder and rain beating on your window was your only solace,

hating its gloom but craving its serenity.

You’ve traveled back and forth on every loop,

with nebulous vision and a quivering heart,

but calm as the silence

after the last chord of a symphony is struck.

Numb as a rootless tree. Paralyzed from memory.

Caught between the paradox of remembering what you’re trying to forget.

Breathe.

Hit pause.

Let’s sit down,

crossed legged in the middle of this labyrinth, and exhale

the past as it fades into oblivion.

Yours Truly,

Present Me