Help me find my way back into this heart, back into myself and the soul I’ve forgotten. I buried them both under years of tears, scars and screams at my blinking check engine light. I haven’t lost every part of me though. I’m still able to find a laugh, squint up at a winter sun and find hope while shivering on congested Ohio highways. Little things still matter, like smiling at the cashier while they ring up my midnight junk food runs, or becoming a regular at the local Pizza Hut, so you can text the manager on Saturdays and have your “normal” order delivered within 15 minutes.
I like small talk, office banter. It’s not deep, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s complaining about missing sleep and having to work late on a Friday. It’s hearing someone ask “what’s up?” and responding “Good! Wait, shit, I mean nothing, what about you?” and laughing at the over-used, lame-ass Dad joke, because cliches are often the best part of life, and it was funny the first time you ever did it and it will never not be funny.
I like spending hours prepping up food to make a feast. I’m talking entire Saturdays dedicated to trimming up some Top Round Roast and rubbing in all the best seasonings; salt, pepper, some paprika and a dash of granulated garlic. Mix that with a bit of vegetable oil and slow cook that sucker. Then making red skin mashed potatoes, a thick, southern style country gravy, and a side of roasted artichokes, all set off perfectly with a cold glass of apple cider. Being in a kitchen, around the heat and the noise, soaking in the rush of stimuli to my senses, makes me feel at peace in a way I can only replicate when I’m on a roll writing something.
And I like writing. Journal upon journal, notebooks filled to the brim with failed attempts at poetry, love novels, dystopian futures and screenplays. I write something every day, even when I’m tired and stupid and making bad choices at 3AM, I still get something down on paper.
So I still have things I like, so my heart can’t be all the way gone. I’m lost, but I can be found, because I can find myself in little things still. I’m lost, but I clearly haven’t completely given up yet. I’ve buried my heart and soul, but I can still dig them up. I can do it…I just need a push…