on being alone

There are entire spaces surrounding the spaces I asked for. Chasms of depths I do not yet know, whether or not I would like to know, how deep they go. I told you it was about closets and basements and old bones I never buried. I told myself it was about freedom and boundaries and being alone. But I learned this morning that even when I was alone, I have never been alone. It has to do with how far you have to reach to make human contact. It has to do with speaking our own body languages and making up words for other words and laughing at silence. I have said before that we as people can never truly know another person, that there are shadows and depths like the sea beds that we can never, will never reach. But now I have begun to wonder how well or if ever we can know our own self. Sometimes memories run through me like rivers of hurt and carve away the bedrock leaving rug burns and bruises. And I just keep on telling myself it’s okay, it’s okay to let things go.



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