The Smallest Steps
Sometimes the smallest steps are the greatest.
The ones people say are not a big deal.
When they ask why you are crying and you don’t even dare to try to explain because you know it only makes sense to you.
I started getting rid of my flowerpots and what was left of my plant collection.
Whoever knows me knows how important my collection was to me.
Time, money, heart, soul, years of knowledge…
Me getting rid of what remained means that I really won’t start over here.
Because I always start over. I look forward, I see the future, I try again and again and again until there is no way to make it work.
But now, it is the end.
Not the end of my plant collector “career”, but the end of my life here.
I cannot bring these things with me to Australia. So why bother keeping them?
But honestly, it took me a long time to be able to take this step.
So many memories and plans and… heart and soul. I cannot explain it any other way.
Everything fell apart.
But I cannot look away anymore — I have to face the damage and accept that I have to move forward.
That there is nothing left here for me.
I have to move forward and go.
I have no more time to grieve. I have no more time to lick my wounds and hope that if I wait long enough, it won’t hurt anymore.
It hurts.
Hurts like fuck.
My work, my heart, my soul.
Nothing is really left.
It is time to wipe away my tears and move forward.
Even if it hurts.
Even if I am sad.
Even if I have no clue what comes next.
If I fall next time, I have to fall forward.