There are days when my hand passes through everyone that I touch.
It makes me wonder if I am a ghost. Passing through this world unable to reach those that tug at my heart.
Can I pass through walls I wonder as I smack my face hard against the brick. I feel the pain and think it might not be me. Maybe the world spins around me like a vapor. I squint and see exactly what I long to see and when I reach out to touch them it swirls back to the mist that it was.
What of the sounds and smells that reel against my senses? What of the quickening of my breath and thunder in my chest?
What about the knowing...
I swallow hard and wonder if I am simply an echo of what was...
1 comment:
Some are friendlier than others. :) And some are better at the written expression than others. {sigh}
And I know just how you feel. I tell myself that everyone is like this. Some just don't know it. Some just ignore it. I think most fight it. Fight it fast and constantly. I think we touch more than we realize. We are what we think, right?
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