Sometimes, it’s quiet and it’s just me and I’m not doing something for someone else or because of anything and everything is still. And I don’t hear the world going around me at a million miles an hour and I’m not thinking about obligations and letting everyone around me down if I take a step in the wrong direction and it is only me.
At a moment such as that, I hunger for clarity. For sureness. For something inside of me to make itself known. For the silence to make everything clear. But it doesn’t. And I don’t know. And I feel lost, like a little girl in a crowd, looking for my mother’s hand.
I don’t know what the answers are. I just want something solid to hold on to.