Running Away

So here I am - having ran away yet again. I've realized I can't pursue anything at all if I'm always on the run, but I can't help the occasional sudden inner compulsion to up and leave, to escape and hide; hence this new blog - my sixth in three years.

I have just read Billy Collins' Questions About Angels, and, of course, as always, he steals my breath away when I least expect it. One particular line in one particular poem has nailed me right in my guts; but even as I was still reeling from the blow, my world sort of righted itself a little, because with that jolt, something fell and clicked into place.

I love to move like a mouse inside this puzzle for
    the body,
balancing the wish to be lost with the need to be
    found.



'English Country House', pp. 88-9

This cyberspace is the labyrinth where I can be lost in, yet still hold out the hope to be found - or, at least, (I hope) find empathy, since I sometimes think she won't ever find me.

Here, I can puff at the dandelion of my mind and watch the little tufts of thought and words float lazily away, and not worry what people - especially friends - would think. If I chose to write about the thoughts of suicide that sometimes drop by for a visit, I could - and not have to worry about friends thinking I'm suicidal and depressed ... because I really am not. I like being happy, and I'm ridiculously easily happy.

This blog, like all my past blogs, is available to the public because this makes me feel like I'm releasing my feelings and thoughts; had it been a private blog, I'd be feeling like a squash ball repetitively hitting at the same four walls. I'd go out of my mind in my mind.

...

Maybe it would have been easier if I just had wings - for then I could escape as and when I feel the longing to. Maybe mankind's fascination with wings has less to do with flight than with escape.