I’m not going to say everything I want to say. I’m not able, just yet, but I will, in time, if you give me time.
I’m not on top of all the things I want to be on top of—I still want to sign up for a drawing class, and I still want to learn how to play my damn guitar, and I still want to make my sister something special for her new baby girl, and I still want to write the poem that’s wedged like a splinter in my heart.
I’m not quite sure I’ve chosen the best path, but it’s the road I’ve taken, and I am determined to enjoy the scenary.
I’m not always good at smelling the roses, but I’m working on at least seeing them. That’s where it all begins anyway.
I’m not going to apologize for loving the ones I chose to love.
I’m not ever going to see her in the same light, but that’s okay, because I know people change. I’m just not convinced the change is for the better.
I’m not about to settle—so stop waiting for me downshift into your gear.
I’m not one to ignore my body, but I do wish I could tune out all its aching and cracking and burning and screaming. I’m not taking another “Fitness Fusion!” class ever, ever, ever again.
I’m not the first to speak, but I’m always, always listening.
I’m not sure when it will all get better, when the uphill hike will ease and flatten and straighten. No, I’m not certain—but I’m hopeful.
I’m not asking for much, when you look at the big picture, but I’m not sure you see that picture, or if you even see me, or if you want to, but somehow, still, I’m not ready to give up, not quite yet.
I’m not going to tie myself into knots over you, or anyone else, for that matter.
I’m not, come to think of it, a woman of knots. I excel at the untangling.
Watch me—I will unthread you, too.
And then tell you who I really am.