I’m sitting here now, struggling to re-acquaint myself with my keyboard. Not in the way like I’ve forgotten where the keys are placed – I’ve spent nearly every day of my life in front of a computer in one place or another, for one reason or another. But in the way that old friends who fell away are suddenly face to face with each other again, poised to reunite with tears and excitement, held back by that string that runs through the soul – that tiny little vein of doubt. “What if we can’t, anymore?” “What if the magic is gone and we can start hanging out again but there will always be this bitter and sharp edge, and the resentment will grow and then one day…one day where there was only the dull ache of bittersweet nostalgia there is now open hate?”
So here I sit. My fingers work across unfamiliar keys, tentatively, whispering how I still want to be friends. My muse may have left a long time ago, but I never stopped thinking, stopped dreaming, and at some point I realize that every relationship takes work, and if we fell away then I’m at least partially to blame. But I’m here now and I don’t want to be afraid of the what if’s – I want to explore them. Forgive me for going away, for not trying; forgive me for my heart’s awkward beats as I try again – I watch too much slam poetry.
I’m here now. And I know that we can never get back to the way we were – dancing effortlessly over the language of every great story. But this can still be my life’s love letter, if you’re willing to try – I am willing to try.