In Orbit

sometimes it feels like i exist on a parallel plane, talking to another person but sensing a gap between the undercurrents of understanding, each following our own imprinted thought patterns and homemade logic. 

 

monologues disguised as dialogues, things lost in translation, coined phrases, unfamiliar slang - swimming in a sea of analogies and metaphors of another’s eagerness to mold my skin into something definitive. i’ve started to suspect that i am the sole inhabitant of my reality and simply a mirror for others to cast their perceptions on. the impression always distorted but somehow considered more objective than my own personal understanding of self.

 

 “seeing is believing” - the mantra of a stagnant society.

 

but there are moments of clarity, transcendence, times when i’m floating above it all, and the words become whispers and bodies turn into vessels for feelings to pour through. muted emotions become technicolor, labels fall away, and underneath all these identifiers and identities made of illusions, above language of any kind, is this universal state (something i had always thought was phony and corny and cliche), a place where i’m able to understand any other person even if our personal languages don’t overlap. even if i can’t make sense of the patterns in speech, i can still relate to the gift/curse of human emotion, the sole universal birthright. 

 

i’m scared if i speak these words out loud it’ll cheapen the sentiment. i don’t want the moment to loose its power. i'm trying to inhabit the space i’m in. filling my head with constant reminders that i’m my main provider where it counts- my source of life, of light, the essence of my soul, whatever part of me that continued to pump blood and grow cells despite all the times i wished and begged for it to stop. maybe i can provide myself with all the light, warmth, and love i need, maybe one day i’ll be my own sun. 

 

i think deep inside we’re all just lost creatures, constantly seeking for something, grasping at anything that gleams with the promise of peace of mind. but it feels like every time i reach out, so close to my object of desire that i can taste it on my tongue, things turn to mist and i’m left alone again in the empty desert of my mind. just another illusion- that my own personal oasis for the the desert within would somehow exist externally. the more i try to secure my grip on these hallucinations of possession (that i tried to disguise as affection) the worse the inner turmoil becomes. maybe it’s because when you posses something it could so easily be taken away- the fear of loosing a favorite toy evolves and matures to the fear of loosing an important person.

 

parts of me never want to give up all the things and places and people i’ve hoarded inside. painting them in honey so they’ll always have a golden gleam, but things coated in honey make for sticky memories. so i slowly wash them off one by one, trying to release them all by the final break of dawn. i know that i never really had them to begin with- it’s all just ephemeral, temporary, like waves or the breeze or a distant melody. 

 

every person is their own island, or maybe a planet, or maybe a boat. no matter what, the only way to continue to flow seems to be by releasing the anchors of memories built on falsehoods and past-selves, these ties i once thought helped keep me afloat. because maybe it really is enough to orbit, to flow, to sail through life. to pass others by and speak in our respected languages and laugh and love and feel together and for each other until the time comes for us to continue drifting separately towards infinity. parting with hope of meeting again and trusting that what we experienced was true. 

 

even then i know i’ll probably cry and grieve, and maybe some of the tears will be from happiness and pure gratitude for having known someone like that existed and for a moment we existed together. but underneath it all will be a warm blanket of love- the knowledge that the tides are turning and it’s time to go, that it’s nobodies fault and that blame doesn’t have a place in these types of goodbyes. and if you ever wish to find me, look up at the night sky- i hope one day the wind will blow us back into each other’s life.