Am I on an island alone?
Sometimes it feels like I’m circling inside this twilight zone called life pulled in a hundred directions, always responding, always giving. My name gets called 10,000 times a day. And I answer. Every time. I answer in tension, in silence, in urgency. But never once do I hear, “Hey, how are you really doing?”
It’s always, “Can you help me?”
“Can you do this for me?”
And I do. Because I care. But sometimes I wonder why can’t I scream? Why can’t I run away without guilt? Is it respect, duty, fear whatever it is, it chills within me and holds me in place.
Some days, I just want to get in my car and drive.
Not to escape forever, but to find something again.
To let the wind float through my fingers, watch the hills turn into valleys, the valleys rise into mountains.
To follow the curves of backroads until they lead somewhere softer where the air smells like possibility and the trees shift into palm trees and peace.
Not just to run , but to arrive.
To find a quiet place where I can finally hear my own voice again.
But even then, the question lingers:
Am I on this island alone?
Can anyone hear me?
I’ve been showing up for everyone else, but I need to find my way back to the person who began to show her authenticity.
Sincerely Me, Letters From the In-Between 