For a long time, in my short(ish) years, I have felt alone. Not lonely for the want of people in my life, but alone in the burdens I bore. All my words were chosen carefully, stories told in small amounts – and always aware of who I said what to. But, I always came back to being alone. Who could truly understand? Who could see the thing I thought I was and accept it?
I learned, eventually, that as far apart as we really are, or appear to be because of the vast silence that comes with the belief of being alone; there is a sameness, a togetherness that we share merely by being as we are, and feeling as we do. Quite possibly, I could have felt less alone if someone had spoken up, raised their hand and said, “Yeah, I am a little like you.”
This blog; yes, it is an avenue for release. Words that build up and repeat. Words that need to be said but almost everything unsaid. It is also me raising my hand and telling anyone who wants to see that I am like this, and if you are too, you aren’t alone.