It has been months since I sat alone in the middle of a busy cafe. The hum of voices comforts me in a very disconcerting way. I enjoy feeling the energy of others but yet I am so far removed from the person I was when I frequented these cafes almost daily. The air seems to crackle with a creative energy that I crave to feed from … yet, my thirst is weak. I once wanted to share all the fleeting and long-dwelling thoughts that haunted me. Now, I want to lock them away, even from myself.
I have been slowly making changes in my “real” life. I now workout at the gym religiously. Somehow, pounding out 2+ miles on the elliptical while reading mindless trash novels allows me to forget that I’m not pursuing my OTHER goals and dreams. Sweating through an hour of weight-lifting and abdominal crunches cloaks the discontent that crawls through my veins. I, instead, revel in the small accomplishments of becoming healthier and looking better. But I avoid the internal mess that is still me.
I know my smile seems brighter these days and my steps are more care-free … but my eyes would reveal the truth to anyone that took the time to really “see” me.