It’s been seventeen years that I’ve had some place, rather I exist or not in the actual human eye, that I’ve been here. My mind, floats. It gently fills the atmosphere with rhythms and long thoughts of why the clouds stay for a few days and not the rest of the week. But, it’s seventeen years of this chaos, this emotion, this…place, that I have been distracted by. My mind can no longer float when these three take place.
But I leave. When I left, I went to this place where it felt okay to be alone. Being alone, is misunderstood. The common response is “I’m sorry” or “I’m here” but you aren’t and neither are they. They simply, or you, feel as if that is what you are suppose to do or say, just because of that film you watched ten years ago with your father and you felt it applied to him as well.
I stood there and captured things all around me. It was nice. Laying there with empty arms and an empty mind, I could collapse with no troubles. It was the chaos, the emotion, the…place, that I had been hurt by. But when I return to this place of mine, everything is back into place. Back into place, which it never was before.
I’m writing this for realization. That being alone is normal, yet acceptable. Just as being with someone is completely the same.
After all, I’m seventeen and trying to complete my thoughts and understand them as well. At the same time… I want to wait.
I’m laying in my happy place right now. I can’t thank myself enough for letting go.