Where is she? Day 2/30.



Sometimes I have little to say. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. Today is one of those day where I feel I am lacking verbal delivery. But I will attempt to challenge myself nonetheless. It has been awhile since I have just let myself flow, or write anything poetic but today I want to see what the soul creates.


She just sat there staring.

Sometimes she would see something.

Sometimes something would see her.

She carried the world with her wherever she went.

She was a bit of a hoarder in that way.

She felt the need to be detached from things.

In a way that she was more more attached to everything.

Sometimes she would smile at the fragile state of the world around her.

Knowing that she could do very little to change it.

She smiled because it was actually quite humorous how little difference she made.

But even more humorous that with that knowledge, she knew she would never stop trying.

It was that realization that she could constantly run in a race, but if there was no finish line and no other participants….was there really a point in calling it a race?

She thought how silly some of our titles were, some of our words.

We use them to make sense of things, but sometimes we just end up confusing ourselves more so.

She decided she would change the verbiage in her mind, so that it made sense.

Maybe she wasn’t trying to changing the world.

Maybe that’s not what she meant to say.

Or did she even say that? She can’t really remember.

Maybe she was just hoping that the world would change her instead.

Maybe her reasons weren’t so selfless at all.

She got caught questioning everything she thought.

So she sat there staring.

At nothing in particular.

I think maybe she sat there staring inward.

Trying to figure out what all the words meant.

She filled her mind with so many.

That sometimes she got lost at sea.

Grasping for a lifesaver amongst the nouns, verbs and adjectives.

So she continued to sit there, staring out.

Onlookers began to curiously peer into her little world.

They thought she seemed a bit odd.

A bit aloof.

That’s the only adjectives I ever heard them mention of her.

I believe on the other hand that she was like a little a turtle in her shell.

Sitting on the inside fishing for the right ways to say all the beautiful things that she wanted to leave behind.

I think that maybe one day she will just stay in that shell of hers, and never come out.

And no one will ever be gifted the words, she so carefully chose to give to the world.

I hope that she doesn’t get lost behind those eyes.

They seem so hopeless, but they glisten in a way that I find pure.

I hope she finds her way back.

Or maybe I don’t.

Maybe her world is more beautiful than the rest.

I guess I will never really know.

But I kind of like that.

I hope she’s happy wherever she is.

For when I look at her.

I know she is neither here, nor there.

But she is somewhere.

That I am sure of.






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