And this is how I disappear.
It starts with a scream, a wail that pierces the air and finds its way into the heavens. Or it would if I let it out of my head. In here it swings around like a wrecking ball, shattering me. I feel like I’ve been absent. Absent from my own life for more than I’ve been here for it. I feel like I’m still walking around like a ghost would. I touch a few lives here and there and then I’m gone. Now my vestments have changed, my howls might be a little more audible and my form slightly more opaque, but a ghost I remain. I still hardly see myself in the mirror. I still feel a pull towards something outside myself that I can’t quite nail down. Unfinished business I guess.
The set of my soul isn’t quite right, I fear. Askew. It feels like most of my connections are made with dotted lines. Permeable, easy to forget. And when I look inside myself that’s what it feels like too. Parts of me forgotten and left behind in a cycle of letting go. Once again I’m pushed to think of home and what that word means. The more I think about returning to my actual home, the emptier I feel. Almost like the first place to reject me for who I was and who I wasn’t doesn’t feel safe to me. It doesn’t feel like mine. Many of the connections I have with home are tentative and often feel like they’re dwindling.
There’s a core part of me that I’ve starting connecting with. I can feel that connection getting stronger every day and I have wonderful people in my life facilitating that.
The trouble is that as that connection grows stronger, I see myself needing to take a hatchet to so many of the other ones. I feel the distance between myself and some of the people I’ve already had at arms length shooting off to infinity. But I don’t know if it will be worth it.
And I won’t know until I do it. And despite that all I want to, need to do it.