people like us

"I am humbled in this city. There seems to be an endless sea of people like us~Wakeful dreamers, I pass them on the sunlit streets. In our rooms filled with laughter We make hope from every small disaster" The Weepies

I haven't written for ages. I have hardly talked with my loved ones. I started to think there was no point in writing. Even talking. What is there to say? How can I express anything without feeling like it will be underestimated, misunderstood. It is so hard to feel like all you ever do is talk about huge heavy things, knowing others want to chat about the weather. And I heard this song the other night and found myself in this bizzare mixture of laughter and tears. I am humbled. There are so many like us. Wakeful dreamers. And I come back to the computer, and I think that even if some are in the middle of stretches of quiet, or even respite, while some are in the trenches, this is how it must be. What would it be like if we were all in one place or the other at the same time? And Lord knows I had a nice long stretch of quiet living. So my trench time happened to come quickly and hard and really rather lined up in a row. It just means I have to force myself to learn when to talk about the weather, and when to let loose and get to the nitty gritty, based on neccessity, not on whether or not the recepient is in the same boat. And so.... I release.