We didn't ask

 

We didn't ask for this,

to feel everything, to be

awash with so many emotions,

all at once, to feel our skin tingling

with every spasm of rain that hits.

We didn't ask to trip over the

same object every time, even when

we are staring at it, or the bruises

from walking into walls, when the

door seems to move from its hinges

and step out of our way. Like a tree

uprooting itself and walking away.

And I didn't ask for every straight line,

to curve when I walk along its spine.

 

I didn't ask to have so many questions

rolling through my head, or so many

moments where I fear I've said something

wrong, because my mind can't connect the signs.

 

I didn't ask to see every blade of grass dancing,

or to be able to count every face in a room

before I've even sat down - not to mention memorising

the directions to every exit, every potential threat,

every bead of sweat dripping,

or the clammy feelings in my palms, as I plan

to wash my hands for the twentieth time.

 

I didn't ask to need to explain how I don't like

potatoes, and the blank stare that comes

from this - the texture gives me the ick.

Or how the cold makes my limbs cramp

harder than they ever normally do, or how

I will search for a cup of tea and end up

writing a book because my mind ventured

elsewhere, and I still don't have that cup of tea,

and if I did, I'd have to start again as it will

inevitably be too cold after 5 seconds of

sitting away from me.

 

I didn't ask to have a kitchen full

of overflowing cups, and a library

full of my own books.

 

I didn't ask to overanalyse every conversation,

trying to recreate every intonation to see if I

misread the whole situation, or the signals being

sent. Did I misread them? Were they written in

invisible ink? Did I look into your eyes for too long,

or not long enough, did I come across as moody

or too upbeat? I didn't ask for any of this stuff.

 

I didn't ask to sit alone because

I can't pick up the phone to say

"Hi, I need someone to talk to."

Or how I can't hang up that talk

when my energy has walked away

and decided to curl up and nap in the

corner, only moving to clean its paws.

 

And I never asked to feel so tired

when all I've done is say hello.

But is it any surprise when my whole

body has so much to do?

 

But it is who we are,

deer on awkward limbs, memory sieves,

in brains full of conundrums. We just are.

And that's the beautiful impact

of every comet of thought that falls.

We are enough, we are more than enough.

We are star children born of another universe,

the stardust of the heart,

somewhere far from fear. Far from here.

But close enough to hear its beat.