Gathering

080313.2340

Am I insane? Am I perpetually dissatisfied with life and what it has to offer me?

As a friend of mine sat there and narrated the misfortunes he went through missing a flight, losing his phone (temporarily), losing his key and being generally very scatter headed, I zoned out...

Other friends sat around and listened and for however long the narration of all these misfortunes appeared to be the greatest and most important thing in the world...

I zoned out. Why is that any important? Have they seen illness? Have they experienced death close up? If they have, all these things would appear so insignificant.

I quietly left the room to be by myself for a while. I've not some of these friends for ages, for ages, and no one asked me how I am doing. Everyone seems to take the smile on my face and the generally youthful and seemingly happy complexion on my face as a given reflection of how I'm feeling.

Little do they know at night I cry at times... Little do they know at night I get so scared and so lonely...

And little do they ask.

Moments

There are moments you are fine. Just fine. Fine like the day is clear and sunny, fine like fine silk, flawless and smooth.

In these moments, you believe you have already overcome, you have already left the dark shadows of grief and pain.

But then the moments disappears, like morning mist in the dawning sun, like bubbles on a vast, vast oceans...

And I break down. I cry like a baby, cry like I've never cried before. Do they understand? Does anyone know what happens in between the silence of the walls of my little empty home? Does it matter at all whether these tears were shed? Do they look at me like I'm a freak and offer me merely pity?

Let me mourn in my own way, let me cry, let me sleep, let me be alone if I choose to be. For I was deeply injured, in my heart, in my soul, and I need to heal.

I need the time and the space to heal and grow and find the "new normal".