cracks in the stone that binds me

I do not know what will come first

from cracks in the stone that binds me,
these words spill out.
I do not know what will come first,
or what will follow,
but I know that, in the end,
there will still be me.

or at least,
so I thought.

but countless failures and countless defeats,
and numerous times I've been blindsided by my own self
have gotten me back to thinking too hard again.
a friend who's seen the cards says I should stop, but I feel as though I must press forward,
as I always do,
and give it all I've got, this time.
or.. at least.. I'll try.
I may not know how to do that anymore,
but I'll try my best, and see what comes of it.

the cards I hold in my hand—
they have been saying the exact same thing for the past three days now—
a change is coming,
you must look inward,
quiet your restless soul,
question yourself,
a change is coming,
and you are afraid.

. . . it's true.
a change is coming,
and I am afraid.

the cards—
they tell me of things I've never known before.
it's all about myself.
they've told me I'm afraid.
and I've seen that they're right.

and so,
I pull a new card from the deck,
almost expecting to draw death for the fourth time,
and pause.

I do not know what will come first.
I do not know what shall follow.
I do not know if there's still light in my eyes,
or if they are cold, and hollow.

as I spread the cards out,
and choose at random,
I feel myself sinking deeper
into the reality of this.

I do not know what will come first,
or what is to follow,
and that should scare me more than this change,
considering how I function.

I rely on logic and on pattern,
and I never used to speak without careful thought.
but I fear that, after all this time under bright exposure,
I've grown restless—
and I've grown too used to what I've got.

a change is coming,
the cards all say,
and this friend—she says I will not be prepared.
she is young, and she is wise,
and she is right—
I will never be prepared.

my head is pushing me to be more mature,
to take on these responsibilities I set before myself.
but my heart is pulling me in all sorts of different directions,
overwhelmed by all I have to take care of now.
it whispers and cries to stay back
and it whimpers and whines when I'm alone
"would you really give up all this progress,
for something you don't even know?"

. . . would I?

"could you really be so willing to give up all you have ever known,
for something that may never come?"

. . . could I?

"are you really so ready
to abandon all this,
to sacrifice yet another part of yourself
just for the slight chance you may be happy?"

. . .

. . . . .

. . . . . . . am I. . . ?

would it be going too far to change myself to fit?
would it be unhealthy of me to abandon my bad coping mechanisms,
to show myself just how unsure about all this I really am,
and yet,
still go through with it?
still change,
in the frail hopes of a better future?

. . . are they really so frail?

. . . am. . . am I really so frail?

I am constantly torn between blind optimism
and the crushing weight that I really don't know what will happen.
I run myself in circles inside my own head.
it's more unhealthy than I'm worrying it to be,
I'm sure of it.

I draw another card from my deck,
and I sit back in awe as it tells me everything.
it never fades, that entrancement.
witchcraft certainly is something beautiful.

I take a moment to breathe,
and my thoughts catch me just then—
like they always do.
I'm alone, and I know it, and so I think.

I think too hard.
I think too much.
I think past the point that it hurts to.
I know no other way to go about things
but to pursue them until I drop,
and then drag myself over the final line.

I look ahead and see nothing.
nothing that I can predict.
nothing that I can foresee.
nothing that I can hint at.
nothing that I can guess.
I see nothing,
and that has never happened before,
and I am scared.

from cracks in the stone that binds me,
light spills through,
but it hasn't reached my skin yet,
and I don't know what to do—
I don't know if it will burn me or not.
it might burn me, or change me, or both—
and I don't know what's worse—
and I don't know what comes first.