. . . Sitting on my balcony listening to the soft hum of traffic from a nearby road, mixed with the sprinklers that have just kicked on . . . wondering what the week will bring, the next month, and—dare I think ahead so far—the next year of life as my birthday beckons just beyond that hazy horizon.
Those who know me know the deal. Those who don’t have probably gathered bits and pieces from what I’ve chosen to share, on here and in select conversations detailing the circumstances of the last year and a half; that tangled web of choices that have brought me here, hoping for no less than a miracle to manifest since every conventional and fantastical effort to date has fallen short of a solution.
We’ve gone from seeking fulfillment and pursuing a passion, to settling for the bare minimum of survival—and even that is no sure thing. They say put it out there into the universe, all your thoughts and wishes, and maybe the right connections will click, the seemingly endless parade of idle conversations will amount to something.
But what if they don’t? What if, for every person you’ve beared your soul to, nothing comes back but the usual clichés and dismissive brush offs? I’ve lost count of the number of things I’ve tossed out there, only to know that it’s ranged from the mundane to the magical, and traveled through those I thought {swore, in some cases} I’d never speak to again and those I expected {hoped} for far more from.
Every person who crosses my mind, every name that pops up on my feed, has become a resource. Some have been amazing to reconnect with, if for nothing else than the genuine care and concern they’ve offered. Others have been a void of silence, one you want to pursue and poke and prod just on general principle, even though you know it’s destined to be a dead end.
Because, ultimately, we all just want to be seen, to be heard, to be respected and recognized on a human level—and yes, to be offered a helping hand. Because it’s hard enough to ask for it. Harder still to realize that without it, you’re quite literally out of options.
So yeah. The traffic. The sprinklers. The warm summer air channeling the last chapter of whatever this is. ♾️