I Might be Nobody

An answer to a question

Photo by Carolina on Unsplash.

And for turning points there are many arcs happening once and one at a time. He asked me who are you and I said I was a runner and he said no who are you and I said I think I am a writer and he said who are you and I said I don’t know.

Do you want to break me into vindication?

Then he left and I wrote on dry erase board who are you and decided when I learned it out I would answer it there. Maybe my whole life had been a spear leading me to this point or I would remain a field of searching.

Hardest is when emotions hit like waves on ocean boardwalks where I thought if I could only stay and dangle my feet I would be the man I am supposed to be.

Then I would find proper pacing.

I had a wife once but there is nothing I know fully I know everything halfway.

Each day one day at a time I dismantle the windows in my front room and clean them both sides and won’t raise the blinds until they’re clean.

It’s not a metaphor only useful to writers. It’s a decision which is birds hopping green branches of an apple tree. My grandmother was alive. When she was alive she made jam.

The man standing in the up and away tells everyone, while he clears his throat, ahem, yes I’m fine, please…