April 22, 2018
I am an old soul trapped in a body with a youthful heart. a tragically beautiful paradox that is always attempting to rip me apart. i love with every fiber of my being, i give every ounce of myself away, as if the stock market is going to crash tomorrow and i will lose everything i've ever invested in. i pour myself into people, as if everyone i meet is a thirsty, dying plant, begging me to nourish their roots. i am a healer. often times i heal too much, give away one too many bandaids, wipe away tears that are no longer a steady stream. sometimes i am too much. i know this. but when you have an old soul, you hear the secrets that the wind whispers and you feel the trees roots itching in agreement. but you cannot tell people this because they will think of you as a fool. so instead you nod your head and say that the weather is nice outside. what you really mean to say though, is that storms are coming. but you cannot warn someone of danger they cannot see. you can scream from the bellows of your belly like a tornado siren, but again, people will only mistake you for a fool. so your old soul has to sit and watch the tornado tear people apart and after the winds die down, you are there with your bandages. i am always there with my bandages. and sometimes i fall in love with the body trapped beneath the rubble, my heart is so convinced that it has to love everyone in need of saving. if you were trapped under rubble, even though you broke my heart once, i can promise you that i'd love you again, so hard that you'd lose the feeling of your bones breaking. i am a lover. but other than that i am a writer and my old soul is the poetry that my youthful heart spills out. i am a paradox at every given time but i will love you damn right.
