Moss and Mushrooms

Lavender

A peaceful, uplifting chapter.
No trigger warnings.

What I am
I sit on the floor in front of my friend, I pull a sheet of paper out of my wallet and I begin my amends. "I know I hurt you, I want to make this right."
They look at you on this Sunday afternoon and they tell you that they are not angry. At that moment things connected in a way they hadn't before.
Maybe the guilt stung more than the bite. Maybe I am not the wretched creature I thought I was.
I am just another person, another person who wishes they knew then what they know now, another person with a past they wish they could take back, another person who's trying to make sense of this.
I've spent my whole life looking in the mirror and telling myself that I am the worst thing a person could be. There's one million ways to be wrong and there are few ways in which I am not.
Slowly the rain soaks into the dirt and I realize that while I have done awful things, I am not an awful person.

Maybe
Maybe this Sunday afternoon I spent making drawings that really had no chance of looking good, this Sunday afternoon of laughing with my friend and talking about things they are light, maybe this Sunday afternoon of laying in my sister's bed while rambling about how much I love coffee, maybe it's not at heavy as it felt.
Maybe this Saturday morning in which I left the thrift store two more stuffed toys than I had before, maybe this Saturday morning of starting a writing project I may never complete, this Saturday afternoon of writing a story that is sunny, maybe it's not as bad as it seemed.
Maybe a first job at a burger joint isn't worth the anxiety I give it, maybe the rambling short stories and poems are what they need to be, maybe you are not judging me in the way I feel you are.
The pain was needed but it's not all there is, maybe I stand in my own way more than I ever knew, maybe there is more to this life than aching.

I am what I should be
I'll tell you everything, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but the truth will find its way out of me.
I'll write about it, I'll tell the story in twenty seven different ways before I'm done with it, I'll write every day about everything.
I'll believe you, whatever you say. I'll take it literally and you'll call me naive again.
I'll live with more than one name, I'll let myself be every one of me.
I want you to feel good. I want you to know that someone sees you and wants whatever you are to be happy. I care, I'll listen.
I will try a little harder every day. How can I grow into someone who's better? How can I be kinder and happier? I will not give up on my peace.
I lived through it, I am here to tell the story, and that little girl deserves all the credit life could give her.
I will dedicate myself to the things I love. I will put a piece of every day into my passion. It will become a part of me.
I will keep up the small moments of artistry. I will keep my video diaries and art journals within arms reach.
I will know that playing on the girls team made me a better man. I will let myself be rosy and pinkish.
I will love the little things, the energy drinks, late nights, dictionaries and diaries.
I will document every moment of it, if there is a day there is a story to tell about it.