Finished

I finished. It took a year and one day to do it. I would like to say I'm proud of myself, and in a way I am, but sometimes it's hard to say goodbye to things that live with you, inside you, for such a long time. And now I have to let it go. It is somewhat satisfying. I don't feel like I've accomplished anything, because it feels like it was all for naught. I started out with such good intentions, high hopes, and glowing expectations of the good things it would bring to my life, and none of them have come to fruition. Almost like a bad stock tip. Because I do feel bankrupted. Or at least disrupted. Interrupted.

I have a compulsion to start over, begin again. But I'm also afraid. I've found the path to be thorny and difficult, even if it starts out well. I wrung out the last droplets of stuff from what's left of my heart onto these pages with black interspersed upon it. I can hear it when I see, and I can remember what I heard a year and one day ago, and I feel the memory of it running through me as if it were now. It was something I didn't know how to name, something I couldn't control, but something I had to put down into visual form before it ate me up. How greedy I am. I needed to hear and see because feeling wasn't enough. Or I wanted corroboration. I wanted to hear as beautifully as I felt. I thought I could make it happen.

And perhaps I did, for a while. And I didn't know how twisted I had become until I listened again. It was all there on paper, in black and white. I was out of sync, off the rhythm. I had slipped out of the key. I tried, but I couldn't make it back again. So I had to resolve without satisfaction, without completing the circle. But now I'm done. It's over. Time to put it away.