I’m not the same

Right now I’m sitting in the DIA terminal waiting to catch a flight.

So stoked for the trip. But missing a kid.

Still happy. Still sad.

Ready to be out but not to meet what it means. Tired of performing. When did I start doing that?

I’m not ok. I told Kevin that today, “I don’t feel like me.”

I also don’t know how to make it through.

I’m still trying though. I’m not mean, or uncaring, or selfish.

Right now, I’m looking around the terminal and no one is concerned about anyone else… they’re all in their phones, moving forward, forgetting their purpose.

I weep for the world.

I’m looking at these people and they seem angry. They don’t even know why they’re mad. But they’re there. Sitting. Waiting. Judging. Angry

That’s not me. I’m not that person..

I’m not the same, I’m better. I’m stronger. I’m here. I show up.