Starry skies are no longer mine. I cannot bear them any more. They are too heavy for me alone.
I realized this as I stood under the stars tonight, alone, in a nearby park. Heaven’s raiment draped about me, weighing upon me as though steel had been woven into midnight, retaining a scintilla of its elemental scintillation. And there I stood. Alone.
It feels like a moment in a recovery group. “My name is Christian and I am alone.” There is something freeing in saying it, and yet it binds my heart as well. That word is my fear, my truest enemy. Alone.
Strangely enough, if you asked most anyone about me, they would say something fond, something warm. They see me. They talk to me. But they don’t know me. They don’t feel me. I am a whisper on the winds of a hurricane; somehow, they hear me but don’t search for me amidst the winds. My words reach them but I am obscured and alone.
There is perhaps another thing that brought me to this. Tonight I said goodbye to a pretty special person. She had no qualms saying that she was alone, openly admitting to it. The irony is that I don’t expect to hear from her again. That isn’t to say anything of her, but rather the pattern that the people who I have to say goodbye to rarely remain in my life and never return. I hope she will be an exception; she is rare and so I hope that she shall remain. Only God and the future know that answer. I’d like to be optimistic but as it stands I am alone.
I’ve yet to meet someone like her and I don’t want to lose her. But, then, I suppose I never really had her. For now, all there is to do is to wager on faith and hope alone.