The Weight You Carry

How much can you lift?

50 pounds? 100?!
Wow, that's pretty impressive. I can't do that at all, I have noodle arms.
But I've moved a bookshelf down a couple flights before. A few tables here and there, boxes too. I've lifted a mattress -- which is surprisingly heavy.

Carrying those things out and away is hard.
I always joke that there's no such thing as making two trips. Or that it's either no pain or no gain. So I tend to carry more than I can hold. Haha, my friends definitely know from the times we've went grocery shopping.

But anyways - yeah. I've moved a piano once -- desks, chairs, sofas even.

I've put their winter sweaters away, while they sorted the rest.
I've stacked the chairs into the hall, while they pretended it was a throne.
I've picked up one end of the box, while they labeled it with "fragile" on all sides.
I've brought a lamp down the stairs, while they double checked for anything left behind.
I've loaded the car for the 8th time, while they said goodbye to the Nelson's.

I've held the door for them so they could walk out first.

After a while, I'd thought the weight would be easier to carry... but it feels almost heavier -- and it's funny because it's not that bad.
Because those things can all be set down, unpacked, unwrapped, reorganized, dusted, and it's good to go. They're only heavy for as long as they're in your hands.

But what's bad is when it's not in your hands.
The heaviness can sit on your heart - now that's the worst.

I can never get a good grip on that heaviness. It has no handles, no corners, no concrete feeling -- it feels uneasy. Just like when

I overthink and let things go easily. when
I don't know what the last thing my grandma said to me. when
I get scared my family will be gone before I understand their love. when
I feel alone sometimes while I'm around others.

Now because I can never get a good grasp on it - it moves however it likes.
The heaviness can feel like that for a quick moment, or it can linger for however long it wants.

But that kind of heaviness is probably not what you meant.

So, no.
I don't know exactly how much I can lift -- but 100 pounds, 24 elephants, or however heavy Jupiter is.
It doesn't compare to the weight I've carried.

Looking Back

Hey you.
Whatever you do, don't do it.

I know it's easy and it's tempting to turn around and go back to everything you knew - but it'll only hurt a little bit more.

The places you've been, known, had gotten comfortable in - eventually gets old. You relive too many moments that begin to blur. Though you convince yourself you're making new memories there, it all  becomes the same.

The same people, gossip, reveries, and the semi-decent moments you claim to be wonderfully unique.

Been there, done that.
But you're right there, doing that - and it's not fun anymore.

We're not exploring, finding new things to do, and surprising ourselves with our own thoughts. As sweet as those moments were - looking back makes me lose myself a little more. It does.

It does.

So please don't turn around, because I might have to leave you behind.

I can't promise that it'll be good or bad - whatever's ahead.
But just keep walking forward.

You could hold my hand if you want.
It'll hurt a little bit less if you do. It does.

It does.