Check Yourself/What she Wrote

​A new day is another start. A chance for a do over. The alarm cries and the door opens. The security check guy hands you your stuff. He wants to know if that’s all. Did you forget something? Is there anything among the possessions that isn’t yours?…and that’s your moment. As you open your eyes, throw the covers, feel the floor beneath your feet…is there anything in there that isn’t your baggage to carry?

They say there’s a secret. Some lady, in Australia I think, found it and she’s gonna make us all rich, she says. Yeah well, this is mine. My way of getting by everyday.

I’ve got baggage, definitely. Years worth. Here’s the thing though: I’m not going to hold on to crap anymore. That guy who broke my heart. My estranged father. Humiliation. Betrayal. Unrequited love. Abuse… Done. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not over it. These are things that happened to me, and no matter how bad I’d love to go back and change them, I can’t. 

Then there are those things that will always be a part of me. My decisions, and mistakes. Those I shall gladly carry. They got me here, to this place. Yes, sir, that’s my stuff. The other things…Nah, toss it. Don’t need that crap today, thanks.

See, I’ve got baggage, lots of it. And for years I’ve lugged them around, piling on more as time passed. It hasn’t been fun.

I have a choice now though. Do I go as I always have, miserable and haunted, or do I sort my shit out? Life’s short. I’m not going to spend it reliving the nightmares. No siree. This fine lady is going to have a blast, or not. All that matters is that I do it now, present for every thread. Like a muh f-ing boss.