I Get It

 I get why you did it,

I get why she did it,

I get why she's wanted to do it.

I've wrestle the feelings, have quietly attempted twice, have even begged for God to take me in the night.

So, I get it. 

But most don't get it,

So that's why it happens- and that's why we bottle it up... until we can't take it, and then we break

snap, 

gone.

I often wonder if that's how I'll leave,

The same way my mother did.

It won't be for years, but I find myself oddly OK with it.

I just simply, get it.

They think that we're crazy, that we might be unhinged... but the reality is, our souls are too big for this shit.

This earth, this life, this shallow matrix. It's all games,

smoke

& mirrors.

Death doesn't scare me, if anything I'm intrigued. 

Her quiet and gentle hands, causing such confusion and devastation. 

Am I selfish for longing her to rip me from this world? Maybe.

But at the end of the day, my soul contract has been made. My life fades. My love remains.

So when I'm gone, just know that I'm always with you. I'm always just a whisper away. Remember my laugh, my loud and chaotic nature, my affinity for travel and animals. 

And if you get it, like I do... just know I'll stay with you until we meet again. 

And maybe one day, I'll feel like this thought is foreign- but for now it feels familiar and comfortable... even warm and welcoming. 

And for now... I'll continue to get it.

I won't hope that you regret it, because I fucking get it.