Sometimes I feel as though I am the river and the rocks are my obstacles.
No matter how hard I try to push the bigger rocks out of the way, I aim for the smaller ones first becausw rhey don’t seem to matter.
By the time I reach back to the bigger boulders, they feel heavy with the emotional weight I gained by focusing on the things that didn’t matter as much.
There I am, slightly bent at the knees, straight back, as thigh I were lifting a heavy box, trying to pick up what I had purposely left behind in the hopes of them disappearing, being washed away somehow, crushed beneath the earth’s gravity.
Sometimes with a strong effort, like a tornado of wind, the boulders move slightly, but when I don’t act quick enough, other rocks gather around and sit there and becoming like the others. Unthought of and waiting.