Tuesday, March 12, 2024

The most affirming word in the minds of forelorn lovers, separated loved ones; whether it's between working hours or actual miles between two people, soon is always arriving. 

For a long-time in the last 60 days, I hung on to that word, every weekend. "Soon enough," is when we were supposed to meet. Today, that tied into my Covid recovery. Third time's the charm so we can hope I recover soon enough; the marker that I once interpreted for the distance between our synced calendars is now a distant future for my recovery phase. There's peace and hope but there's also history. 

For us, soon was always incoming, every weekend as we worked our asses off. Now, soon is a year or maybe two. It took me over two years to go back to working out without killing myself and building my strength, and now the soonest I can do is "soon enough". 

It feels like I'm repeating myself over but what is soon anyway? I asked this out of frustration when I was texting my sister earlier today. I can pull that impatience card on her cause she's known me all her life, unlike the delicate other ties on my phone where I have to contain myself to an emoji conveying frustration. We've seen things, my sister and I, we've seen Covid and we'll see other things too. "Soon" from her was triggering. Who tf does she think she is? Why is she talking the same way as the man? Can she be more specific? A little less on hope and a little more on facts? God, why can't my own sibling talk to me the way I talk to myself?

Soon enough she'll be gone or well, be on her way out. Soon enough, I'll be out too; or maybe not. Who knows? If you'd told me one month ago, soon enough translates to a wildly loose timeline between now and never, I'd have never walked the road where I am. I was full of purpose a few months ago, I was full of purpose even when I was dying last week; in between being delirious with high fever, I kept thinking of how to match the competition—who the fuck am I even? I am not even paid enough to do this shit? Why have I put all my eggs in one basket, not for a man but for work and why am I giving ten fucks about my body fat and rounded cheeks post-sugar and jam during covid instead on focusing on survival. 

"I'm going to be rounded and fat and tubby when I wear a bikini later this month," I chose to focus on my jaw that lacked the sharpness I had two weeks ago, three days into covid and a cocktail of medicines later.

"Killing it," the same as "soon enough" only in the present. 

I really do hope I'm happy soon enough. 

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