Where Do We Go From Here?

It's Sunday. I'm at home waiting for someone (Uncle?) to come and help me jump poor Dino.


Out of the corner of my eye I noticed an old note a friend had once written me a few years back. Realizing how so much has happened since he penned that note to me, I am at a loss for words now. Nostalgia sets in as I remember how close we once were, and how much things have changed. Once like siblings, we're like acquaintances now, just that far from being strangers.

This seems to be a pattern in my life: people coming and going. (Or maybe it's just me?)

Years have passed. Everyone busies themselves with "living." Slowly we tune each other out - draining the life out of our relationships 'til they (we) are unrecognizable to each other. Ships passing in the fog in our private little worlds. Physically near, but oceans apart. Alone even when we are together.



If I am sentimental about anything, it's about the times I spend with the people I (wish to) hold dear. No matter what those tests say, I express and receive love through spending time with each other. But, it's growing evermore difficult now since I left my old church. Though I never quite fit in there and no one really understood (or wanted to understand) me, and though I was often made to feel like the constant downer with my idealism, it was familiar.

I worry what will happen in the coming months. Will I have to file away most of these relationships when I move, only to pull them out like old photos on rainy days?

If I am brutally honest with myself (and with you), I want to matter. I need to matter. I need to know that there is some secured place in your heart for me, a space devoted solely to me (us).

Maybe it's self-centered/selfish of me to want to matter, to be missed and wanted? Maybe it's self-consciousness and fear of being left out? Maybe these fears have made me too cautious and apprehensive in being more available for/to you? With so many people coming and going, is it any wonder why I pull away? (Yes, I know... "That's no excuse, Annie!")

I have no idea.

All I know is that I miss you. All of you. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss the echo of your laughter.

I miss you.

And, sometimes, I just wish things were as we once knew them... Even if it was dysfunctional at best, it has to be better than silence and chance encounters, right?