I’m lost without people.
Strange to say that having made so much effort to walk out here,
to sit alone, on a bench,
facing the water,
with my back to the path that the people are walking by on.
Even stranger to think that my second love is nature,
and yet I’m tilting my head down
to cut off my view of nature
to focus my attention on this page
on these words.
My actions say
that the words are my first love
that expressing myself comes first
that being in and amongst yet separate from (nature and people) is more / less …
Anyway, the point is
that I like me better than all that other stuff.
what am I without a chance to express myself?
what am I without this bench?
What am I without the people that … that what?
What have people given to me?
Some validate my existence
Some refute my right to be who I am
Some are purely indifferent.
communicating with someone who loves me.
I suppose that’s my idea of heaven.