Futility

Another night. Another night of going to bed alone. Another night where you sit in front of a pixelated screen that engages you more than interacting with someone you say is “the love of your life”.

I can’t begin to know the depth of your feelings. In truth, I don’t know how deeply you feel. Isn’t that sad? In some respects it seems as though you are as emotionally vacant and distant as my father seemed when I was a young girl and believed everything to be my fault. But I digress. 

So, you sit, engaged with a screen that has no bearing on the life beyond it. That cannot keep you warm. That cannot cry, with you or for you or because of you. That cannot be angry or afraid or hurt or warm or in love or in awe or just wrap arms around you and say “be present with me. Be open with me and to me. Be for me what I ache to be for you”.

Is this really what it’s all for? Is this really why we open our eyes in the morning? To kiss the air beside our cheeks as we rush off to different paths, to meet again, briefly, at the end of the day when our hearts and minds are weighted with the burdens of the day? Burdens that aren’t shared. Concerns that aren’t discussed. Triumphs or lessons or hurts that aren’t valued or vital or soothed. Like air trapped in bubbles on the breeze, drifting away out of sight, to burst beyond the reach of heart or vision, and settle on another’s gaze or shoulders or heart. How long until vision is turned outward, beyond the home threshhold, to other hearts? Where is our point of connectedness? Where is our shared space? Where are our hearts aligned? 

I am not emotionally resilient. I am not emotionally sturdy. I have dark days and light days and days where I just don’t know. Some days I just am. Some days I am, just barely. But I always imagined I would be, at whatever stage and in whatever place, *with* someone, present with someone. I cannot shake the sense that we are two bubbles in space, at the mercy of the eddies, drifting in our own individual spheres of existence, buffeted by challenges, caressed by successes, but always in separate bubbles. 

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A Serendipitous Life

Woman | Proud | Strong | Independent |Ecologist | Mother-of-3 | Hiker | Camper | Lover | Musings and discoveries and snippets of my Life and my Self

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