In silence I sit and realize that half of my breath is absent.
The air enters my throat but doesn’t seem to completely fill my lungs as it once did. Something is missing.
As my thoughts attempt to follow the same path traveled for so many years the absence of full breath redirects their progress and brings them to the developing brick path that is being newly paved over a more solid foundation, I cannot go there anymore, all detours have been closed and the old path has worn away.
There’s a numbness to this pain. So many years, waste is a word that has begun to enter my mind as I look to where the new path might possibly lead and yet even that word is numb as it enters my thoughts.
It is real this time, it has a momentum that is pressing my sanity and my growth. And so I sit in the silence and know that this absence of breath is real, it is not numbing, it is empty and lonely and silent and curious all wrapped up together. It is real.
Today I woke up very melancholy. The day unfolded from there and I came upon a letter I wrote some where between 2013 and 2015.
This is the letter.
I have wanted for so long to see you love me,
to hear you love me,
to feel you love me.
My mind has so often tricked me into believing that someday, in some moment it would happen…the light would shine in your heart and through your eyes and the receptors would trigger in your mind and you would reach out for me and kiss me and hold me tight.
You would let me hold you and love you as I so desire to hold and love someone, for so very long now, you.
I can feel the beauty of your body and have waited for the moment when you could feel the beauty of mine.
This fantasy is at some of the deepest depths of my pain. I tried so hard. I wanted it so much and I worked at it with every ounce of energy and sanity I had.
I wonder if it will always live in me
and I wonder why it ever has.
We had a lot of life together, 20 years and it is now done.
It ends with such a huge hole of questioning… what it really was all about…
there really is nothing to show.
The way we lived…so apart… I was so lonely all of the time…never feeling good enough….honestly never being good enough.
The question is so loud in my mind.
Who am I?
The apparent answers don’t seem to fit, they all are attached to some one or something outside of myself.
Even recognizing the ultimate answer, the answer that has gotten me through is unspeakable in this moment.
I have no idea what the answer is to the question in the world of the reality we all live in.
I wait, I pray, but the core of me has no attachment in this world and so I have to recognize that I float through this world not really knowing.
Who do I want to be?
I want to be someone who is recognized.
I want to be the person everyone has always me told I am.
I want people in my life, I don’t want to be alone any longer.
I want to make a difference in my world.
I want to be open and free.
I want to feel love.
I want someone to want to know about me.
Who am I?
I am an entity floating through this life lost and unattached, imagining what it could possibly feel like to be something else.
Who do I want to be?
What does this look like in my life.
It is the theme of what my world has been. It is how I only know to live.
I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t.
Always suspecting if anyone is present enough to really care.
I see the world outside of me and I don’t really know if its real.
Being alone for a lifetime creates a world within itself, for as time eclipses the moment, and your alone in that moment, there is nothing outside of you…so there is no reality out there, no world according to the ego.
I’ve known this since I was very young. I can still feel it within my memories, how my soul began to prepare me as a child for this world within my mind, for that feeling of floating thru nothingness, no one attached to my being and as I’ve grown older I’ve had to find my sanity in not being attached to theirs. Alone.