Rising sadness.

Now is not the time to pour myself into this keyboard...I have to work soon, and work is filled with responsibility. I'm responsible for the lives and safety of two-hundred and fifty human souls. I can't cry there.

I avoid mirrors. I can't stop time from advancing, and other peoples assertion that that advance is significant has taken root in me. Am I really less valuable now, just because more time has passed?

And I thought of an old friend, and reached out. This friend is wise, wise and crazy. My friend seems so carefree, taken by the wind, and floating above the world, yet so wise from all they have witnessed. Smiling, but watchful. Making a joke, while analysing the horizon.

We used to be inseparable, but the time was wrong, and we both had other directions to grow in. Now we have totally different lives, in different countries, with different people. But I still love my friend.

And I think about how few friends I really have, how rare the friendships that I maintain. How no-one knows me any more, the me in here.

My friend wrote back, first time in years, and highlighted all of the parts of them that had changed, until it looked like my friend was coloured in bright yellow. I left it too long. I was scared they might not care.

I have to be honest. And when someone says that it shows you that being honest is not something they normally do. So you caught me out right there. But my feeling is that as much as I hide the real me, the one that only comes out when I break down, I have to admit there is so much I can't love in here.

I ride a machine, and I say ride, because I'm sure as hell not driving. And it takes me to places I feel like I have no choice in going. And I can't work out how to short circuit this machine, this body. So it will do what I need, not what it wants.

I look around, everyone has machines of their own. But some of them steer them, slow them down, speed them up. And I can't work it out. I'm in here.

So this isolation, that I reinforce by absence, that I defend vigorously. It defeats me. I defeat me.

Because I called my heart this morning. And it told me all it wants, is to be missed.

Tears fell out, the pain made noises, I breathed like I was feeling pleasure.

So while my friend floats above the world, I feel like I'm even further away, watching the whole thing on TV.

My fear, my prison.


This is knifey, from 'the internet'.