98% Sure

(Continuation of Chosen Barrenness)

I was always so sure.
98% sure, I would think.
“Just isn’t for me”, I would say.

I don’t understand this feeling.
Where does it come from, and what does it mean?

It’s not in my nature
To play “What if?” games,
Or stress over hypotheticals
Beyond such impossible horizons. 

It’s easy to remember
Why it had to be this way;
Why this was always the only correct decision.

So then,
What is this grief?
Is it for whatever mysterious life could have been,
Or for the slowly evaporating freedom to change direction?
Maybe it’s merely for my young adulthood,
The past version of me that is surely fading
As I enter a new phase,
One where I have far less value.

Would they have been miswired like me? Disconnected?
Would they love or despise their existence?
Would I have crumpled into nothing,
Or risen to the challenge with dignity
And shared greatness?

I will still answer easily when questioned.
“No, I have no regrets.” I will say.
“Just wasn’t for me.” I will say. 

But even as these replies come smoothly, 
There will always be a shy question
Forever in the back of my mind,
And for tonight
I feel something I can’t name in my chest
As I wonder what their name is. 

October 5, 2024

(Continuation: Grief for 98% Correct)