The longer I search for the words to describe the thoughts in my head, the more I feel disconnected with the world. I can feel my foot tapping the ground, yet I do not feel grounded in this reality. A world of events pass by, and here I sit untouched by them. Eventually tendrils of reactions will come to lick at my feet like the frothy waves of the sea, but for now my feet remain dry, disconnected. I find myself wishing for an anchor, something to hold me in place, to keep me from soaring through the horrors of the world inside my head. Yet all my efforts seem futile. The dual reality I live is impossible to convey in any form, and it leaves me stranded and alone. I attempt to grasp at the strands of friendship, the wisp of threads leading to hope and love, but they snap and crumble as I close my hand upon them. Why am I unable to connect with the people around me? Why does the fear of completing that connection frighten me to the bone? Is it even possible to complete that connection when the universe inside of me fights for control? Who will I become if I let such a thing happen?
I can see the multitudes of possibilities that lie before me, in the reality where my body resides and in the other where my mind wanders. With this vision, one thing is apparent to me. One thing stands out above all else. The mere simplicity hid it from view for the longest time, but now it is obvious and impossible not to see. That thing is, “We are all …
Mile 29 