It’s an accusation coming from their lips.
But I take it. Swallow it. It’s true. I have changed.
So many fundamental things are in flux. And at first I panicked. Now I’m floating, trusting it’ll work itself out, doing my best to survive and navigate.
My current beliefs and doubts and struggles were always there, little seeds fermenting in the dark soil of my soul. They were growing under the harsh sun of my certainty, the lies I told myself and the world for a long time. I had such confidence.
Well now my plants of sprouted. And no one seems to like the little plants. Perhaps they wanted flowers where I was growing a cactus. It might not be pretty, but I am pleased. At least it’s alive. It’s real and it’s tough and can survive the arid dessert of doubt and fear and all the other shit life has tossed at me.
I don’t pray anymore. I fling pleas to heaven now. “Please be there. Please …” that is all I can bring myself to say.
And I keep trudging on. I keep tending my cactus. It’s mine, and it’s alive.