You cannot find it on a map. There are no discounts, nor are there shortcuts. The highways and wrong turns I take may be the direct path for someone else. And even if we find each other along the way, we were meant to travel different paths. Because love is a journey. One we cannot help but make.
Alone. How many of us can truly be alone? With no one but ourselves, our thoughts our only company. No television; no music; no calls or texts or tweets. Just self. Few. Very few. They say people fear the unknown, and this is true, because so few of us truly know ourselves. We are afraid to be alone because we may not be our manufactured selves after all. So much of what we see is a product, a persona, an image, that we have not become mere consumers but rather producers of our own product: ourselves. Solitude is nourishing. We cannot be who we were meant to without first being alone.
All of us, each, criminals would be. If judgment, attitudes and reactions were weapons, we all would have rap sheets. Casualties larger than our family trees. From the trigger-happy thoughts both spoken and unspoken, to the rage that grows like a tumor within so many souls. How many of us would have caused suffering just by our If-Then assumptions. Some wounds would be self-inflicted, even. We are all guilty of being imperfect. Those who carry loaded weapons are not the only dangerous ones.
If who I am must be defined by what I do, then the definition must be in my own words. Otherwise my self will not be mine. My reflection a stranger’s; I will not know her eyes. I must gather the artifacts of my life and record them on my own notepad and on my own terms. Lest my existence be merely on a string. I am a marionette no more. Scissors, pen and paper are my arsenal. A threat to no one except myself. But once I conquer myself the world may be caught off-guard. Stay alert. The truth awaits.
All that is worth waiting for will take its time as needed. And I will step out of the way. I will not impede growth by attaching deadlines or a timeline to something that nature has in its hands. Instead I will indulge in every bud that finds its way to the sunlight. But I will not fall. Rather, I will surrender. When the time is right.