New Year's Regret

Sometimes I look at my hands and wonder about how I've grown. And with the new year's come and gone, I've been looking over the last two years and how these hands have been broken by anger, and how the warm blood in them have comforted me when I'm sad. I've felt my nails cut into me when I'm over the edge. I've felt my soft palms run through my head when I'm so close to that nothingness. These hands have held me together when I'm breaking down. These hands have acted as containers for my rage.

I am not where you left me. In that lonely space between loneliness and abuse. Nor in the hole where fear envelops and dread consumes. I am no longer that sunken treasure you dumped into the sea. I'm on land now, waiting to make someone rich in happiness. For it is the only currency that you receive more of if you give it away. A contradicting treasure. From a contradicting soul.

I am better off now. I'm happier now. I've been over the moon and back. I've been in empty amusement parks and overpopulated sidewalks. My life, as I see it, is a contradiction. And I'm okay with both hysterical happiness, and that lonely yet fulfilling love I feel so recently.