Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Flying Solo

M- "I am sorry, I wish I could be there for you on your existential journey."

R- "Its okay, it wouldn't be much of an existential journey if you were there helping out."

This was part of a much longer conversation that I had a few months back. And it has latched itself right to the front of my conscious.

As someone who is well aware of what an incredibly good life she leads, there are moments when I am awash in the realization of the futility of everything.  I desperately grasp into the fog of my own doubt to try to discover what truly matters.  Over time, I have found that these things that matter tend to be the ones that sink to the ground, and tend to easily accessible no matter what the mental weather.

However, I have also discovered that this journey through my own mire is one that can only be taken independently.  How could anyone else even think to venture through this?  No matter what you are willing to offer, be it treasure or particularly empathetic ears, they are useless on a quest with no map or key.

I survive the journey, surely enough.  I always do.  And I am never very far from where I began.

Eventually the offers of hands-to-hold will wither away from neglect, and then, well, things will be almost just as they are now.

These battles are mine, but there is nothing quite like having someone with to do a victory dance at the end.

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She's pint-sized and amazing.