21
they say it in different incredulous tones
/twenty-one/
i don’t feel it
i feel the inverse
the mirror opposite
i feel twice as old, i feel twice as young
i am exhausted, i’ve barely begun
i feel sage-weathered and child-naive
jaded-bitter and hopeful-eyed
i shift between the extremes like a planet with no true north
like a compass in gravitational flux
like a weathervane in a storm
i feel as though i should be uneasy
like an anxious figure is due a visit
as though i am too settled
who gave this calm to me?
is this what the years bring with it?
is this the reward for living this long?
this bone-tired weariness - knowing you’ve gone through hardship, knowing you will again
knowing what is to come can’t possibly be worse than what has come before but knowing it will try it’s damnedest anyway?
i am no longer surprised when things are difficult
that is now the default, will nothing be easy ever again?
is the standard set, the bar raised, the difficulty set to highest?
will it be exponential?
will i unravel further?
do i have anything left to give?
with everything the years have taken from me - is it never enough?
how much further?
how much longer?
when can i finally
rest?