I understand how people could have tourettes. I find words in my head, that want to come out.
I understand how a spirit could get lost, and roam empty rooms, forgetting purpose. My thoughts get lost sometimes, disappear, maybe easier than remembering, and I walk through the house, aimlessly.
I understand how people can become hoarders. No time to put things away, they pile upon each other, and the more there is, the less energy I have to sort through them. Important papers, empty boxes, a shirt worn for a few hours, unplugged cables, half started projects, left undone when something else becomes more urgent.
I understand how people can become reclusive. Too hard to talk, too hard to pretend, too easy to let the phone ring or to hang up without leaving a message when no one answers. Too hard to be alone, too easy to be alone.
I understand how people fall into the empty well of depression. I fell to the bottom once, when loss had overwhelmed me, before I even realized I was falling. I understand, and I do not wish to go there again.
What I don’t understand is where I am now, where I am going, how I will get there, and who will I be when I arrive.
