You are loaded with expectations I cannot meet.
Were it not for you, I would not know that I should know better.
I would not know that I should know at all.
I long for questions to roll lightly from my tongue and run playfully in my mind.
Not lodge in my throat like large chunks of unbuttered bread. No tea to wash them down.
I long for patience.
Patience to accept that answers must ripen before they may fall. Patience in the place of torment.
Torment caused by indecision, transition, outcomes pending.
Always. Seeking. Answers. Please. Come to me.
I long for Basic Instinct. Gut Instinct. Mother’s Instinct.
Instead, I calculate, articulate, gesticulate, and hesitate.
Every move. Every thought. Every word. Every breath wrought with judgment. Every judgment wrought with judgment.
Instinct, you are relentless in your absence.
Trust you, they say, but I was raised to never trust a stranger.
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