A Quiet Post

When I was younger, I wrote secret things to secret nobodies. I forged little passive notes of love or agression, tucked them in public spaces, and hoped the one person I wanted to read them would not only find them, but read them and ALSO know they were from me to him.

In this present day, I remember that feeling of hope which penetrated my entire being. My naivety back then sure colored my world a bright, passionate Pollock of hope and desire. It was a survival tool to help me through the angsty hormonal teenage years, and as I'm in the midst of my angsty young 20s, I remember my passivity.

Truth is, it's an option. Most nights are silent pockets of lonely, hoping for a phone call or a message yet doing nothing to be connected to anyone else. Most nights see my mind raging through lists of possible ways to medicate my lonely. Drink? Smoke? Sex? Netflix? Instagram? What's the next distraction?

A solid community cannot be taken for granted. It also doesn't appear out of the blue. On this night, as I reflect on all the ways I've chosen to assuage my lonely, I feel I'm coming full circle to my passivity. Posting a quiet blog entry. Yet, I know inside, I'm not who I was before. I'm no longer the passive kind. I think I can see now how the circles of life repeat, yet show us the distances we've conquered each round. I'm far from where I was before.

Back to community. In an ideal world, no one would ever feel alone. Yet, the yin-yang begs to say, how would we ever appreciate community? Human touch? Another's presence? So on this night, I choose to medicate with silent honesty to myself - I'm alone, yet I know it won't be forever. I'm in a world full of beautiful, hurting, healing people. In this quiet stillness, my anticipation of community and genuine human contact could not be larger. When it comes, I will be ready. For now, I know I'm by myself, and it's actually okay.