Cards

Brand new deck of face cards. I'm teaching myself to shuffle them.

Cardboard boxes and cowboy boots. I feel as empty as those boxes are full. I'm throwing away pieces of my past.

I dropped the deck, but I picked them up again.

I'm grateful for the piano. And my hairbrush, even though it broke. And for corrective lenses. And also God. I'm not sure what I'd do without Him.

My fingers are sore but I don't know what else to do but get better at shuffling these cards.

I keep thinking about the night I stayed up until two in the morning. I like the night time. I'm still afraid of the unknown, but at least I'm not afraid of the dark anymore.

Reshuffle.

I don't understand parents. Or middle school relationships. And I don't think I'll ever understand tongue piercings. But I'm over it. There are just some things I don't understand.

Deal the cards out for another game of solitaire.

Game over.

Shuffle again.

Once I fell asleep under a tree at the park. And I've slept in my car before. And on a bus. I don't sleep very well on airplanes, though.

I wish I had someone to play cards with.

I'm not very good at shuffling cards.

I wish I was brave. There's too much pretending. That I won't have to say goodbyes. I sat in the car thinking of how I don't want this to end but I never said a word. Sometimes I wish I had. Too late now.

Shuffle again.