Leaving the pink garden

I say good bye to my pink garden to go visit friends and relatives, who live far beyond the thorns of the garden. Thorns that grow and consume the land surrounding it, making it span far across the land. Still, my friends and family live far away from it.
While driving, i looked in my rear view mirror to see the thorns at a distance. As i came closer and closer to my destination, the thorns became less and less distinguishable from anything else, as it disappeared into the horizon. To think that i used to fear it. To think that i used to let it consume the pink garden, once, long ago. It all seem so trivial now, in retrospect. It will always exist and be an issue for someone, but it no longer pesters me.

Once i got to my family and friends, it had already become sundown. You could see the clouds form pink as the sun was setting. I stepped out of my car and walked to the front door of my parents’s house. They said that they would all meet me there. My friends, parents, siblings.. I hadn’t said anything special, nor was anything of significance going to happen that night. But they all knew that it would be the last time. The last time that i would set afoot inside of that house. Not the i that is me, but the i that once was me. The ‘i’ that is struggling for its life, trying to survive. The ‘i’ that is telling me to sit down and be quiet. The ‘i’ that is telling me to stop.
I think it’s called Jante. “Well, i’m sorry, Jante, but i’m done with you. You were never welcome, and it’s a shame that i even had to know you in the first place”. That night would be the last time he told me to do anything.

I stepped into my parents house, and was greeted with friendly faces who were all eager to hear what i might say.
The darkness slowly wrapped its warm blanket upon the land, and sundown became night. I had spilled my soul everywhere that night, as well as a few tears. Tears of both joy and sadness.
As i got ready to leave, one of my oldest friends met me half way to my car, where i had parked it. He asked me if he was ever going to see me again. I explained to him that life has a lot of intertwining paths, and that ours would cross multiple times. Because even though mine will change color, texture and material, it will still act as the road that i’ve always walked on. It will just look different.

~Written by Jenna G, as a tribute to my good friend, Jocelynn.


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About Get a Grip

Code monkey. Opinionated.

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