Splitting

I am splitting in half every second for the things that have never happened

I am splitting in half

For every moment I anticipated

I held my breath

I choked myself

I robbed myself

Of a real moment

For an imaginary one

I am splitting in half

Is it time I’ve wasted

Is it my own fault

I was never really in it

I was visioning

I am splitting in half

I am everything I never thought I would be

And nothing I expected

I am splitting in half

There is nothing left of me

That there was when this began

I am a puddle of brokenness

My spirit seeps

I am splitting in half

They won’t remember me here after a little bit of time

my name is scrubbed already

It was not a lot of time and I was never here to some

Would it be easier if I was never here

Would it be easier to have never met you at all

To have never sampled what my life could be if I was given wings to fly

Instead of pushed out on a platform prepared to die

I’m not a martyr

I am splitting in half

There is nothing left I thought there was here

Yesterday is a bitter dream and tomorrow is an illusion

I honor the pain the numbness the pain the numbness the pain until there’s nothing left but numbness

Then pain again maybe years later

Maybe when I take the wrong way home that makes me pass by the building where I was split in half

Do you have that?

Do you have routes you avoid?

Do you avoid half your town?

Once I forced myself through the neighborhood I grew up in and I swore I thought I saw some pieces from when I was splitting in half

I’ve split in half too many times to count

What kind of portions of me are left

Who even knows unless we go back and track down all the pieces

I can tell you it’s not worth it

I’m here, and there’s enough of me left to offer something

I’m not sure what yet but there’s something and just the mere possibility of a tomorrow is enough

I have split so many times I wouldn’t think there would be any left but you’d be surprised how deep our rivers flow

Maybe it’s splitting

But it’s also merging

Maybe taking that route home and facing those old truths is putting some of the pieces back together

They’re not the same

They fit differently

Nothing will ever be the same but at least there’s a body here and a breath when there should be, and a heart where there should be

I am splitting but that does not mean I am splitting in the parts that will end me

I am splitting and there is a tomorrow and I’m not thinking about what it is exactly

I’m just breathing and hoping to survive another day where I’m at the mercy of the world’s gamble.