Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

The last turn.

March 9, 2018


I've always liked being alone, but lately that aloneness has begun to feel hollow, fragile, no longer shatterproof. It's like bingeing on sugar until your body finally rejects it--a solitary nature can eventually, I'm finding, become loneliness and isolation. I once said to a dear friend that I had never felt lonely--and it was the absolute truth until this year. Then something shifted, and suddenly it's like having to learn a new language--the language of interaction, of finding how and where to meet people. 


This is incredibly scary stuff, as I'm sure any one of us can attest. Life was so much easier, earlier, when we couldn't help but spill over each other in chance meetings and hastily assembled outings. Life as an adult is infinitely harder. Infinitely hard. 


So I don't know, but I guess I'm open to a new way, open to turning the telescope around because right now, the view from here does nothing for my perspective.





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This Quiet Earth