Walks used to help. He would take that first step knowing that every following one would bring more and more peace. The longer the walk, the better it felt, the clearer his mind would be. Used to be. This day nothing helped. The road beneath his feet offered nothing but more solitude and seclusion. He felt so distanced, so alone, and no amount of steps would ever bring him closer to that belonging that burned in his chest, real only to him.
Even music offered nothing of its usual comfort. It just counted the steps for him, humming somewhere among the loud thoughts, silenced by their relentless murmur.
He pushed forward, though. He always did. He might feel alone, his dreams might seem further away from him than ever, but he was what he was, and he could be no one else, for better or for worse. At least that much he could accept and understand. He was walking the circles alone now, but he was walking, and that counts for something. It has to.
The birds were flying, cars were speeding, life went on. He knew that, even through the veil of tears, even through the sounds of faith cracking deep within he knew life always goes on. But, he never felt so hopeless before. He never felt this powerless; or wanted something so bad. Why that counts for nothing? How much you want something, and how much of yourself you are willing to put in it – is it meaningless? Does it have some weight in the fabric of life, suspended in time and space?
He wanted to talk, but more than that he wanted to look into the eyes of someone who really understood him, without judgment, without even agreeing with him. He wanted a hug that would dissolve him. A hug he felt only briefly. A hug he would never get back. But those who did understand him, or he at least felt they do, were far away, living their lives, unattached and free from him. As it should be, he guessed. As it should be.
As many times before, it was up to him to find the meaning again, to spin the compass needle and find new directions. Right now, all he could do was walk and cry, until the music pushes harder or the road circles back again.
.
