The Wall

There are versions of me no one knew long enough to miss except me. I miss the person who assumed the future was a hallway and not a locked door. It is strange to be grateful and grieving at the same time for what remains. My body keeps rewriting terms I never agreed to. I did not realize how much identity lived in ordinary plans until those plans stopped fitting. I grieve the energy I used to spend without budgeting. There are dreams that did not die dramatically, just under fluorescent light at appointments. I miss the person who assumed the future was a hallway and not a locked door.