If this is the last dance, then may I have it?

in prose •  last year

It feels as though I am dying- to the extent that I would almost bet on it.

Admittedly, this very specific part of my life is closing. I am walking into the unknown, and shutting the door behind me to a degree that cannot be re-opened. This is definitely a death.

As I look back, tears falling freely, it feels bigger than that. I reflect, and I pray that what I leave behind is good. I know that I did not try hard enough and that I failed, but there is a hope that what actually lingers might be better than my memory of myself- that what ripples in my wake are vibrations of love.

I hope I was good enough.


I'm sorry that I wasn't.

Perhaps I was not seen enough by one. Perhaps I survived in the shadows never really embracing the sun. But my blood is consecrated to unconditional love, and if this existence leaves a positive impact, then I suppose it will have been worth it.

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