Bad Boys For Life

In my line of work, I fear people will use me for my knowledge, tools, or skills and, like a soiled paper plate, discard me when I no longer benefit them.

But when people stay. Like stay and stay and stay, it’s as though their presence challenges the notion that my worth is finite or that there is only so much of me that matters.

And amid experiencing aging, graying, fattening, stretching, and aching, I feel a deep sadness that the best of who I am is gone, if not dead somewhere, rotting.

That sounds dramatic, doesn’t it?

But honestly, when I see youth in others, their spirit, fresh and new, and living with a zest that springs out of them like a jack-in-the-box, I want it. And yet, when I look in the mirror and notice that’s not who I am, it worries and scares me.

I’m afraid of fading into the night and going out without a fight. They say we’re supposed to rage, but what if giving up and giving in draws me?

It’s a heavy thought night, as you can see.

The depth of the vast conversations at work was heavy too. So it’s no wonder this is where my head and thoughts are.

Like I said yesterday, I need this vacation. One more day, Jaclynn. You’re almost there. Woosah.

Love, Me

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