Will you help me sort through luggage and the pain?
The contents are black and heavy
I'm afraid to look inside, afraid the break the levee.
Oh, the proverbial baggage. I've got a sh*t ton, y'all. Enough to fill up the JAX airport. I'm trying not to let it weigh me down, but it's heavy. My back aches from dragging it around. I try not to think about it. I shoved it into the corner of my bedroom, and there it sits, like the fat, pink elephant in the room. The giant thing taking up so much space, but we don't speak about it.
When I love you, I trust you. Completely. My trust became a joke, something to be used. I don't trust now. I am wobbly and unsure, and pretty certain that everyone, even the pope, is a liar. I used to see the best in people only. Now the cracks and fissures consume. It's hard to see the good, the potential. All I can see is the future when he'll change his mind, when all he can see are my cracks and fissures, the ugliest parts of me. It'll end because everything does. Even the brightest star explodes into nothingness. And the darkness stays, and stays, and stays.
I keep seeing this quote that goes a little something like this, "Find someone who loves you enough to help you unpack your baggage." Here's my problem with it. I don't like help, especially when I can do everything all by my own damn self, all the time. I am an independent woman, who don't need no man. I don't like the idea of a man being the reason I get over my crap. I want to get over the crap all on my own. It means more when you go it alone. It makes you stronger, braver. Or maybe more hardheaded, which is also the truth about me.
And maybe having baggage isn't a bad thing. When someone gives you up so easily, all you want is someone to give a crap. Someone to fight just the slightest bit. Maybe I do want someone to help me unpack. Complicated things are the things most worth working for. I am a mess. I am a tight ball of neurosis and fear. I have learned a valuable lesson from it all. Nothing is a guarantee. Not next week, not your tomorrow, not your next breath. I have learned that life is full of the unexpected. Life will screw you over. Love will make you cry, but the pain is worth it. The pain makes it real. So don't think about how much it could hurt. Think about how happy it will make you, if just for a little while. But sometimes I'm scared the baggage will crush me. The refining fires will burn me beyond recognition, and I will fade. I don't want to fade. I want to burn brighter than the sun.
Who will stand with me in the stormy baggage claim? Who will see me through the hurricane and help me unbury the life I want? And who will be there when I finally get there, when I'm at my best, when I am everything I've ever wanted?
If I were you, I'd get in on the ground floor because pretty soon this girl is going to meet Tom Hiddleston or Zac Efron, and let's face it, once we met, we're as good as married.
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