I heard somewhere that every time you make a choice,
A part of you is lost- it goes on to live what would
Have been had you chosen something else.
And I can’t help but think of the parts of me that
chose to eat Chocos instead of cornflakes, and
wake up at 7 instead of snoozing the alarm, and
stay in urban canopies instead of leap away.
Now, I know we’d like to think our choices matter and that The Road Not Taken was a dark, ridiculously pessimistic, tactfully honest poem but-
I feel those lost trails sometimes.
Lingering like beach waves in my head; I used to think
That’s what solitude sounds like but no,
Solitude is noisier: it makes you forget that you are
Still with yourself.
And I don’t know which choices weigh down, which ones crash into you and erode from your state of mind, but there are no
Salty words to tell you something… anything, anymore.
Four months into college, I got the most tangible radically life-altering takeaway.
That the word “diminish” is not spelt d-i-m-n-i-s-h?
And I tried to remember if I knew that all along, and
I couldn’t help but think of all those times I must’ve used it
Incorrectly. All my life.
All those times I’d taken the Microsoft Word spelling check to be a decorative buffoon.
But I guess that’s what change is like.
Retrospective thinking to no end, a random you want an epiphany for, an in between that’s nice to get stuck at, and
I might even continue to spell it that way,
Just to kid myself.
And there’ll be some… dimnished version of me spelling it right in an alternate Universe.
I might learn some day that when life doesn’t get from one growing milestone to another,
You just sew your frustration into a hammock across them, and
Sleep on it.
Some day, I will know that this poem is not so much I point I want to make as it is
An untangling of myself, digging out shells of courage
I will know that vocabularies are not footprints that endure, and
Most of all, I will know,
That the most important part of me
Is the one that has remained.