Bloom

There I was. A lonely Sunday afternoon. Another weekend rushed by. I look out of my big windows enjoying the sun and the bloom of spring. I’m bored and restless although I have a million things I could be doing on my ever-growing to-do list. 

 

Yet here I am. Looking at the outside from the safety of within. I often daydream about what perhaps a future life of mine looks like. On a day like today I can see myself maybe checking out a cute rooftop bar with my Sex and City clique-Black Queer edition. Or maybe on my way to Paris or South Africa for a little me time after weeks on end of working my several successfully running businesses. Or sitting on my private balcony of my new condo. And even perhaps all of these things coming together to form one big happy life for me. 

 

A life I’m in control of. 

 

Monday came and went as somewhat of a blur. I find myself lounging on my futon listening to jazz. Anxiety raging as always but hell what’s new? I find myself adrift in quite a range of emotions. Life is certainly playing its cards-and what a good hand it has! 

 

It’s my turn yet again. 

 

I’ve been annoyingly irritable lately. Social interactions are thorns and leaving the house requires small battles with self. I find myself enjoying recluse away from everyone and everything. Even myself. 

 

I’m ready to go.

 

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to believe. I’m desperately reaching trying to grasp at something. The something being nothing. The nothing being everything. Perhaps I enjoy self-torture? Actually, yeah I do-it’s one of my trauma responses. I search aimlessly looking for an anchor only to find myself still free falling. 

 

With the flowers and trees in bloom I decide to head to the park on a lovely Saturday afternoon. Listening to my 2000s soft rock playlist, mixed with chirping birds and rustling leaves in the wind, I feel the rays of the sun gently caressing my skin. It’s a safe place for me. A nothingness that provides just that-nothing. Nothing is expected from me and I expect nothing from it. The racing thoughts subside a little. I begin to connect with self. 

With the flowers and trees in bloom I decide to head to the park on a lovely Saturday afternoon. Listening to my 2000s soft rock playlist, mixed with chirping birds and rustling leaves in the wind, I feel the rays of the sun gently caressing my skin. It’s a safe place for me. A nothingness that provides just that-nothing. Nothing is expected from me and I expect nothing from it. The racing thoughts subside a little. I begin to connect with self. I try to connect with a thought, a moment of reflection, but it escapes me. I see and feel no desire to chase it as the rest I’m experiencing is most welcoming. It’s a moment of connection. I let go. 

 

Silence is a privilege.