What If

What if it's getting worse?
What if I don't want it to get better?
Maybe I want it to take me down.

What if I care more than I said I did?
What if I don't care at all?
Selfish and selfless in one jumbled mess.

What if I love my self?
What if I hate my life?
I still can't change anything.

What if I feel guilty about living?
What if I feel too guilty to leave it all behind?
It's an obligation, not a choice.

What if I'm scared?
What if I'm strong?
I can't cope with either one.

What if you didn't love me?
What if I do love you?
There's no point.

What if you could see the truth?
What if I was capable of a real lie?
Sure fooled you.

What if the famous weren't glorified?
What if the glorified weren't even really famous?
We all wish for more.

What if I deserve more than this?
What if I only deserve someone as fucked up as I am?
Let me be.

What if I keep myself down?
What if I could ask for help?
I want to believe you, I really do.

What if you held me in your arms and kept me safe?
What if you pushed me down and walked away?
I'm so tired of this dance.

What if I only crave darkness and solitude?
What if I need to belong?
Always trapped by convention.

What if you found out who I really am?
What if I only told you what you wanted to hear?
You think it's so clear what's going on here.

What if you actually cared about me?
What if I stopped caring about you?
It's all an illusion anyway.

What if I'm too broken and exhausted?
What if you're part of the problem?
Heaven Help Us.

You have no idea.
What if?
So what.

What nothing.
Nobody knows, nobody understands, nobody cares.
Not any of us.

Morning Daydream

I love a wet, foggy winter morning. The air is full of cool mist and there's a drop of dew on every blade of grass. It reminds me of home.

Sometimes the fog is so thick that I can't see beyond the edge of my back yard. There is only an opaque vastness. I almost forget where I am.

I like to imagine that there's a forest in the distance. I will wander into it and lose myself, walking on soft needle padded trails through the fir scented darkness. I hear the gentle swaying of tree branches and the delicate patter of rain. I emerge onto a beach with a wide gray sky and salty gray-green waters gently lapping at the shore. Across the channel I can see hazy blue peaks tipped with snow. Searching the damp sandy ground, I find a spiney purple urchin, a flat fuzzy sand dollar, a smooth red jasper, a bright clear agate, even a highly coveted piece of deep blue beach glass. If I close my eyes and breathe deeply I can feel the crisp breeze against my cheek and the fresh salty air in my nostrils.

When the fog clears and I see once again beyond my own back yard, I am reminded by the flat river valley below that I am far from home. How I miss the Puget Sound and all the beauty that surrounds it.

Some day I hope to return, to be surrounded by the sea and the forest and the mountains. Until then, I wait each winter morning for the dense fog to provide a blank canvas on which I can create my own vision of the world beyond.