There are times that I’m afraid of what’s on the other side of all this process and pain and laughter and learning and change and discomfort and excitement and hope and curiosity and question.

I’m afraid that the other side of this is just…

Fine.

Fine, like a sandwich you get at a gas station.
It fills the space but leaves you empty.

 

Fine, like a flower without scent.
it fills your vase but leaves no aroma.

 

Fine, like fake wood
and flimsy knives
and rental roller-skates.

 

 

When I feel that fear,
I remind myself that I’ll only fall into fine if I don’t cross this chasm

all

the

way.

 

Fine is like a creek under all this, ready for a slip on the bridge above, ready to carry me off in it’s current like a leaf or a twig if I get scared, or lazy, or forget that all this actually IS important.

 

Fine tells me to settle down.

Fine tells me no one cares.

Fine tells me I’ll be okay without.

Fine tells me my dreams are just

 

dreams.

 

Fine whispers, “wake up. get real. deal.” with a smile and a hug
as if it was being kind.
as if it was helping me to grow up.

(since when did “grow up” mean “get small?”)

Fine gurgles below me and cajoles me
back to the fine I’ve been fine with
for far too long.

I am not fine.
I am fight and flight,
finding and fastidious.
and I will not float away in fine today.

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