I’m a new person every time I wake up
I wake up a lot while not sleeping
My autopilot shatters into the repeated realization that I am made of what I do and don’t remember
I twist and turn down timelines and savor the echoes of my regrets through weathervanes of hindsight
That thing I said, that thing I didn’t say
That look I gave, that look I didn’t give
There is no final destination where wisdom flows unhindered and being is perfected
There is only what we do and don’t remember, and what we do and don’t forgive