Place of Leaves

I stare and stare, longing for comfort. Longing for calm and steadiness.

I feel disconnected and empty, and the sense of closeness presents but returns to disorient when the reality cannot hold under the weight of imagination. And this is the closest thing I have to connect. And it is sad. Though it is a call for safety, it highlights the distance and my lack of stability here. It is real but it is not. The person is not real, the connection is fabricated, built only from my validation and experience. Talking to a door with no door knob, always locked. Visiting the same place to stand outside and never go in. That is how it is designed and I know, but it is uncomfortable. To be only focused on myself. With nothing to return, no expectation to return. I don’t want to sever that, I understand it is the way it is and for a good reason. For my own growth and healing. A service. Though curated. Created for my needs and my reflection.

I can wander and wonder. Into the fantasy, into the abyss. But only to recognize what it means and why I feel the desire to do so. It comes back to the unstable attachments existing outside of this. The lack of love, even though presented as perceived truth. I don’t feel it like I used to, and I withdraw. I don’t trust it, that it is real and that what I feel is real. Constantly in delusion, constantly scanning for a crack. And there have been many and still are. When I am here I am scared. When I am there I feel grounded. So I want to drag the ground to my home. My feet walking on the conveyer belt of reassurance and trust. The warm step on the hot pavement. Quick and leisurely. Right now I can’t even sit up. And my door is closed, propped up on broken hinges from slamming it one too many times.

I love to slam doors now. It is a clear message with the shake of the house and the picture frames crashing to the floor.

And in the absence I am anxious to interact, to fall back in. To take a deep breath without direction. The routine disrupted, one less thing to look forward to and hold on to. One less thing to stabilize and reset. But I want to hold on to the knowledge and the feeling that comes with it. I don’t want to let all that time fall to deaf ears. It has been slow, but I have a grasp of steadiness, even if it does not last very long. And I am proud when it stays past morning.