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  • Writer's pictureCaitlin Cassidy

Things to add to the trash.


Anyone else feel me on the following?


Sometimes I have this suspicion that I want nothing. Or at least nothing that’s quantifiable. Not a toothless grinning baby, not a man to walk me down the aisle, no specific ribbon or milestone.


My career and my degree aren’t my trophies. I don’t care about any trophy I’ve ever received; I could throw them all in the trash.


I was not supposed to be like this. I became a Difficult Girl instead of a legacy.


Everything I want is conceptual - peace. Understanding. Consistent hope. But most of all, enough love to carry around so I can fill up the places where it’s missing.


And I want to be aware. So here I am - aware of nothing; I am aware of everything. Shifting from left to right, moving up and down, sideways.


I want to know. I want to take it all in. My whole life. Everyone around me. But I miss the minutiae, which is its own everything.


Sigh? Sigh.

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