i ain't a killer but don't push me

i got a text yesterday from a number i didn't recognize:

how is it that other people get to see you but i don't???

huh...good question.  certain that it was intended for someone else, i initially ignored it.  a few minutes later, i considered responding with some invented narrative about how "i know exactly what you did" or "because i'm still haunted by the ghosts of what could've been."  though my inner iago would find some pleasure in that, i decided against it after imagining the emotions it might stir in the person on the other end.  so i let it go.  or thought i did.  

an hour later, i found myself listing all the people in my life that could have sent it. and with each, i tried to answer the question.  i had good answers for some, and no answer for others.  and so i started thinking about the inevitability of moving on, the reality that all paths diverge, and the fact that there isn't always an answer.  there was a time in my life when this realization would have depressed me.  but after this year, i find it enthralling, liberating.  always the play, never the thing; you can be a collector, but you can never possess. and who even wants to?  i mean, actually wants things to be static?  no one, and the ones that fight it are banging their heads against a wall.

so i think i've embraced it, the art of letting go.  at least i'm trying to.  armed with a new idea and a new anthem, i set out into the night.  lookout...i got my gun in my boo' purse and i don't bust back because i shoot first.