Sometimes, I feel like I’m grieving without knowing why or for who.
But then, what else would I be grieving for but all the versions of myself I could never be? For all the dreams that never were, all the planes I could not catch, all the loves that never crossed my path?
I am all this energy, all this fire that I am almost combusting from the inside out. I can feel the flames of a thousand suns blazing beneath my skin, and with all these wild visions fluttering behind my eyelids — God, the things I could do.
The things I could do…
But I am all this fire that has nowhere to go. I am a fire that is roaring, but in the end, all I do is burn myself. In the end, my fire doesn’t matter because I am a sun with no solar system. I am a volcano that does not erupt. There is fire, but there is no way to use it.
There is “potential”, and somehow, for now, it ends there.