doing – three good words

a heartbeat

where i wish i could be
several me’s all at once
not split up, not even clones
just me several times over
so i can:

read this
write that
tell that story
watch that movie
hear that interview, podcast, song
read that blog

and have enough time for

mindfulness, peace

but also

write that proposal
answer those emails
make that call
read that article
share that thought-piece
refresh that page
upload that pic
like that comment
double-check that tweet

without forgetting to

drink enough water
take time to cook
eat right
be right
have a slice of great pie
go jogging
stretch right
maybe yoga
maybe swim
go out with people
dance a bit
socialise

and know just enough

about fashion, movies
books, trends, scandals
cocktails and wine
to be in the know
fit in
stay in the flow
of what’s cool
(nobody says ‘vogue’ anymore)

but also have the time to

potato on the couch
netflix, pinterest, spotify

without forgetting to

make things
create things
grow things
be things

so many more things

that are mine and not mine
all at once
all the time
all the time
all the time
.

strange to retrace
the steps you once took
eagerly expecting an eduction
and getting more, way more
than you first expected

not just the books bought
and the papers written
but the friends and heartbreak
the clandestine lovers
breaking up in furious tears and shouting
once discussed and inevitably discovered
yes, you two, I know who you are…

the novelties found
the loyalties broken
the real friends made
those many words said
and unspoken
in between and all around
the hours sitting, pouring, agonizing
studying, practicing, memorising
and finally, finally, understanding
all those things you’ll actually
– I guarantee you –
really need later on
in the big bad rest of the world
with its sharp fangs and cold snout

that wide open place where suddenly
being clueless is a country of its own
which you have a permanent visa for
coz it doesn’t get better, does it?
oh no, it gets so much more
like an effing sitcom

where time and again
you’re made to understand
the connection between bat excrement (urgh)
and fucking crazy, excuse my French
(why French anyway?)

and you know youth is not wasted on the young
it’s exactly what’s needed to get through it all
and not end up neurotic, eccentric,
not to mention unnecessarily high strung

oh, wait…
naw, it’s all good
it’s the simple fact that
now, years later
you’re no longer either one
or the other
you’re who you are:
still a kid and genuinely grown up.