I look up and suddenly its as if I'm bathed in an inky black haze. It's like standing on the edge of the ocean at night as a storm is coming in. I can sense the enormity of it stretching out in front of me. The sense of loss and misdirection overwhelming in the moment I realize how insignificant I am in contrast. The understanding that I have no connections to anyone else comes crashing in like the waves. The reality of truly being alone on the edge of every thing.
The black haze surrounds me. My friends and loved ones are now shades around me, shapes void of features vaguely human only slightly brighter than the darkness that is so thick and heavy on my skin. They seem to give off just enough heat to be alive but not quite enough to draw me in any longer
Sometime I get lucky and find a beacon in the darkness. Not a true light of life that allows me to find my way home but another beacon like myself. We drift to each other, moths to a flame. There is some solace in our passing. A hollow joy in knowing that someone might understand being lost. These are times we try so hard to hold onto as they seem so few and far.
There is life exchanged between the beacons like some kind of long forgotten currency. It buys smiles and understanding, sometimes in buys strength. The strength is never enough to live on but if we are lucky it buys enough to last until the next meeting.
So there I am drowning and drifting in the haze of alone. They smile at me. I know the routine, I nod and laugh, play the game. I'm drifting between beacons now. The shore is long behind me and no where to be found in front. Its OK, I never was one for land anyway. It always seems so abstract a concept. Truth as it is never suited me, never left me feeling safe. I prefer the absence of sanity. Its always easier to hide in the holes I created in reality.
