The Cost Of Remaining

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The intention defects into the air like blue unfolds itself into the beyond. In sign language, to say dissolving is an emotive downward motion with both hands depressing your thumbs against your pinky and as you go down you ride along with your fingers ending passed your index finger. The action feels much like what it is describing; you are squeezing outward till there are no more fingers to cross. Much like remaining, it takes intention, and although it has heart laced between the folds of self-justification, it dissolves the pillars of your fool's paradise till none are left. This is me battling with resentment towards loved ones who are not neurotypical.

There is a very selfish hope that fuels my intention. When the false moves we have always made recur under different light forgiveness becomes an empty gesture it's just the cost of remaining. In hopes of being this idyllic person who is an endless well of forgiveness and empathy, I martyr my hours, my days, my blending blues to a wind that is uncaring because it is under its spell. I often wonder if this is admirable or foolish to believe the future exists. Part of me has always thought that the things you hold most dear are saturated in sadness or a secret wound that reasons you to give yourself to it in an untranslatable language only a few understand. Just a few people I know can decipher the heaped together wretchedness that lingers in the balconies of tired eyes. It does not need to be this way, but yet it is. It does not always have to be this way, yet it might be.

It's funny how it goes, round and around searching for a way to not be so strange. How could you not be so counter thought when the conditions in which you arrived have never felt quite warm enough. You cherish the warming effect of attention given by way of being needed. Resilience as a religion because what else is there but to forgive and forgive and forgive. So as your well runs dry or you rocket explodes you can be forgiven. Much like how every napkin scribbled note lost gets rewritten my memories come back to remind me this has all happened before.

Richard Gutierrez