Pere Lachaise Cemetery in Paris.
Loneliness is paralyzing; It clouds the mind with an intense, blank feeling that weighs down any rising positivity. Depression and self doubt set in, all there is to do is wait out the hurt, watch the harrowing thoughts pass through the boredom. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel is dim and flickers in wasted hours and days of waiting. The emptiness cannot be satiated with just anyone, there are very few that the heart yearns to be close to; if only there were more company to lift the sorrow. Darkness lingers in the image of the desired, their identity unknown. Out there, somewhere among strangers, lies the companion that can chase it all away; but for now, they are untouchable, as am I to the rest of the world.
I woke up feeling the immense emotions of a dream i just had…
Reminiscing about my childhood, I was reminded about a mantra that my bold, outgoing former self bestowed upon a new friend. I began to walk down my old street and observe the growing lavender, repeating something like “you will worship me for who i am,” looking back, my mother was following me, clipping the dead lavender branches I passed. As I came to the end of my dirt road of a street that lined an inlet that resembled Southport harbor, I noticed a small park area where the two sides of the inlet came to meet, two marshy, damp peninsulas kissing at the base of a magnificent view of the sound. My mother and I knelt to the ground, and began to pray (something I never do); I was immediately filled with an inspiring vision and exclaimed my prayers as I burst into tears. We shared an emotional catharsis as the vision of Moses filled me with a sense of a journey that empowered my sense of being. The sacred ground that the land was on began to take shape, the water and lines of grass morphing into my vision. I looked up to the horizon, as the sun rose and another vision of an orb took shape in my mind. I immediately began to draw it in the damp earth, dividing the circle into sky and water, as if it were the earth; I filled it with many different animals that inhabit the planet, as if they were what made up the world I live in. I then divided it into many different sections, labeling each line with an important quality of life, from intelligence to humor, from generosity to hope. I felt as if I had been given a purpose in my life, an understanding of why I am alive.
Notre Dame in Paris.
Life is a series of cycles, revolving uncontrollably. Speed is relative to cognition, painfully independent of my control. As I meet the waters edge of my adulthood, I find my state of mind returning to the beaches of juvenility. Maturity floods my feet and then retracts, and my feet have disappeared beneath a damp blanket of responsibility, the moisture of mental capability slowly evaporating. Another wave strikes the shore and again I am drowned in thoughts far beyond my years with no channel to guide their use, and as they drift back out, I watch my credibility hurriedly follow. Behind me lies an impossibly distant memory of happiness, buried in the sand; beyond me lies a deep ocean of blue uncertainty, and my sea legs shake with anticipation and self-doubt.