It seems to me that the older we get, the more complicated these things become.
The farther we get in this journey called life, the harder it is to find a quiet place
where we can laugh for no reason,
cry for no reason,
and not feel alone.
We all now each carry a precious burden
that we jealously guard from people closest to us
a ball of Gordian knotted secrets that can’t be entrusted to anyone.
Trust is now a commodity.
There is now a multilayered hierarchy of intimacy that is as sacred in our adulthood
as promises had been in kindergarten.
Hugs and kisses have become impersonal social formulations.
There’s such a thing as social gravity,
intricate emotional co-dependencies
that fall short of being classified as friendship,
symbiosis based on people’s company
that unavoidable circumstances put us up against:
until we are simply survivors of a shipwreck,
grabbing at random debris just to make it,
ready to jump and abandon floaters at a moment’s notice.
I need to be rescued from this.
We each of us are surrounded by so many means to reach out,
but our needs have become a maze that even we can’t figure a way out of.
Would it that we can make our skills to manipulate,
our capacity to belong,
our obsessions of rewriting our pasts and reinventing ourselves
and admit to the first person we meet on the street
that all we really want
is to be truly known by,
and mean something to,
at least one breathing soul