A wooden gazebo
with flakes of paint stain beginning to chip
into thick, suffocating air
lay lonely and leering
at its reflection in my car’s royal blue smile.
A stop sign.

It must have been nearly zero degrees out that day,
but my pupils only focused
on the porch swing that hung from the gazebo’s ceiling.
A hook’s mighty grip and a chain’s sturdy strength
carried a gorgeously carved, masterpiece lounge
fit for a relaxing day.
The way it lay peacefully sleeping
but ready to fly
reminded me of the one we had a long time ago,
when my brothers and I would swing as though
we were on a playground,
pumping our legs until our path made a semi-circle.
It’s a wonder we never broke the thing clear off the porch –
or our bones –
in the process.
I can still hear the clunking of the chains
as the swing glided back and forth with severe speed,
but, God, was it exhilarating!
In retrospect,
everything is so simple when you’re five years old,
even the nights you spent spilling tears on your pillow
because someone called you words you didn’t understand.
Fear is easy.
Fighting back is a journey.

Through the years
life starts to peck at you with its long, sharp beak,
and its bright red feathers look like fire in the midst,
and it will break you.
And then it will break you
again,
and again,
and again,
and it keeps pressing “repeat”  as it pleases for the rest of your earthly existence,
and pretty soon you have to make the choice.
Will you surrender?
Will you fight?
Will you fasten a heavy shield over your heart?
Will you grow?
Will you win?
Will you live selfishly alone?
Will you trust?
Will you see?
Will your thoughts drown in lies?
Will you explore your own self beyond fathoms deep?
Will you become stoic to all of it?

I’d give anything to have one day back on that swing and its simplicity,
where becoming the next Michelle Kwan seemed like a logical career goal,
and the only mistaken assumption of me
was that the pink Power Ranger was my favorite.
Assuming the worst of someone
without considering or knowing
their present self
is like personally handing them the right
to become your villain,
regardless of their actual original intentions.
I refuse to be that villain.
I don’t exist to hurt you,
nor am I going to continue my attempts to please everyone
when that’s impossible.
Doing what is right for yourself isn’t always selfish.
Sometimes, it’s all you can do to keep going.

Keep me going.
I’ve forgotten how to figure myself out.

I guess I should start driving again.