If You Love Me, Don't Let Go {Jinx Family Thread}

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Hold, hold on, hold onto me ‘cause I’m a little unsteady, a little unsteady

[attr="class","jorggradient1"] Walking into the house with my belongings after all of this time, it feels strange, and awkward. Everything is the same in this house, except it’s not. The house has not changed one bit, the couch is the same spot as it was when I left, the pots and pans still in the same cabinets as before, the bedrooms still remain the same, but the feeling that meant something has changed. Just because the physical appearance has remained unchanged throughout the years, it’s the meaning that makes the importance. This house hasn’t been home to me for years now, I feel like I have become isolated from these people who used to have a place in my heart which now feels cold and desolate. I walk into the main foyer and see all of the memories that were created in this place, and yet they feel so distant from myself. These places and feelings belongs in the past which has all but been severed from me, yet here I stand. Swimming in ghosts of my past I watch, an outsider as those who used to be called family continue on with their daily lives, as if I was never gone, or if I was never there to begin with.

[attr="class","jorggradient1”] The sunlight bleeds through the open skylight as the morning star grows higher in the sky. It shines down upon the walls as it illuminates upon the ancient feelings of yester. It shines upon our growth marks that our parents marked in the kitchen, it shows the scuffs of all of our tussles, the good and the bad. It shows me everything that was once there, but for some reason none of it is connecting. I just feel like I have become too disconnected with my past to appreciate everything that is going on. I have become a stranger in the place where I grew up for years. The memories, the laughs from the joy that echoed the halls, the tears from the pain that stained the floors, the memories that have become meaningless to me; I’m scared.

[attr="class","jorggradient1"] I’m scared that I have become cold to those who used to be so close to me. These people I used to call family I have grown so far from, I’m not sure how I can mend these bridges. Somehow I was convinced that moving back into the house was a start. A start to what though? I’m not sure what all of this means, why I am doing all of this, maybe it’s because I felt lonely, or that I was missing home, but I don’t understand why I’m doing anything for that matter. I am very confused about everything right now, I’m floating about in the tides of time and direction as I fight just to regain some sense of control over this whirlpool spinning in my heart. Sometimes I wonder what is actually happening around me, I have become so disoriented and unsure of myself, my emotions have become fragmented, threatening to shatter into a million pieces if I cannot control my feelings around them. More tears threaten to stain the floor in a rage filled white water waterfall.

Mama, come here approach, appear, Daddy, I'm alone 'cause this house don't feel like home

[attr="class","jorggradient1"] Walking through the threshold brought back turbulent emotions that I was trying to keep in check for so long. I thought moving out would get them to notice me again. For so long I felt like they didn’t care, they were never around. I always felt like that I was never that important to them, big forgetful oafish Curse. The one who’s always been in and out of the hospital, the one who was too weak as a child to be worth anything, always trying to prove myself to everyone around me. Have I ever been enough to them? I’m distracted by the sound of oil sizzling on the skillet and the smells of meat cooking in the kitchen. It’s strange to think about how normal things seem to appear when it is anything but. The normal feelings that lingered in these walls and fabrics and metals that make up this home lay obliterated in me. The feeling that used to make this place home to me is shriveled up, and dead.

[attr="class","jorggradient1"] Walking towards the sounds of cooking I lean down upon the dark, smooth countertop, watching as the oil bounces off from the hot pan. The ground meat dances in the pan as it’s seasoned and sauteed for dinner tonight. I remain silent still, just watching as I observe everything, the feeling of being an outsider only heightened by this. I am unsure of what to do, or what to say, the awkwardness of the situation taking over and controlling me. What do I do?

[attr="class","jorggradient1"] What do I do?

But if you love me, don't let me go. Woah, if you love me if you love me don't go.

Unsteady - X Ambassadors