Written by Alex Greenspoon

In my time of self discovery I have managed to abandon myself.
I miss the time I spent hovered over scribble-filled notebooks, the paper peering deep into my soul as only a lover could.
The ink stained my skin for days, latching onto me like a mother’s grip.

As I get older,
I panic that I will abandon my passions.
My eagerness.
The very ardor that taught me how to love.
I refuse to rewrite the promises to myself.
I refuse to forget who I am even for a moment.
So now I write,
As I chase myself in order to embody this newer me.

I would beg to be an imitation of my past self – to create a cycle that could not break, to be the creative that dug their nails into my arm until they hit the bone as a means of imploring for the preservation of my words.
Oh how I wish to tell myself that you are growing.
You are building on the parts of you that escaped from my desperate clutch but darling they still love you.
Darling they still care.
Darling, they are still there.
My words of encouragement are etched into my heart,
My flesh bleeds out to provide evidence of my physicality.
My blood trickles blue as it imitates the ink from my scribble-filled notebooks.

It never left, I am still here, I can still breathe – I write in order to convince myself yet I must chant the reminder that abandonment is a choice.

In the new year, I render my faithfulness to you.
I remind you that we can grow together, as we are unable to separate.
I remind you that you have made it another year.
Darling, you have prospered.
Darling, you are no longer a burden to yourself.
I will cherish your enshrined words and protect your memories,
As I wish you yet another,
Happy Birthday.