You all live collectively while I remain an outsider.

~ 8/17/10

 

The butterflies in my stomach gather around to tell their story, as if they know something my heart doesn't. I always find it difficult to decipher my instincts from my anxiety, so I'm not sure what it all means this time.

I watch myself slip into a black hole, falling into the unknown as everyone I love continues to carry on in their own separate worlds. It's as if my world and theirs can't physically co-exist without colliding from the tension. I don't know how to fill in the gaps, and each time I reach out on all sides, I come up short, having nothing to offer but my heart, and the desire to fill a space in yours. But it's never enough. You're so careless, your doors don't stay open for very long. There's no use in trying to add something special to your world since it's already so full, not allowing much room for anything but your own circle.

I feel as though I'm existing in my dreams while awake, silently observing her surroundings rather than a woman trying to make a life for herself, a woman connected to the world around her, and a woman sharing a tight bond with her family.

I'm left sitting quietly on the sidelines, waiting for my turn as you all join hands. When will the crowd clear out? I can't fit my big heart into such a small space. When will someone at least let go and allow me a place in their open arms?

Perhaps it's selfish of me but I'm tired of waiting to be seen, waiting for a sign that I'm loved, and waiting to hear the click of a perfect fit securing its place.