Sometimes all I can feel is the heavy air holding me back. It’s blanket responsibility toned up with my particular anxieties around others. It’s a connectedness that requires effort, consideration, and a setting aside of my will for the other. It’s a lot of what marrying and fathering ends up being.
So when I go away I am free, be it for the 20 minute drive to work, or from work, or when I wake up early to be away from the sleeping world.
A window gets opened and new oxygen slips through and allows me to survive.
The Alone. The breathing in. The kingly freedom from others momentary needs and accounting.
I enjoy my time to run away but I’m more and more filled with thoughts and presence I can’t leave behind.
When I’m around others too much, no matter how close and kindred, and I can’t leave to be alone and drink my oxygen, they become hands around my neck.
When I leave and breathe they become the joy they are again.
It’s not always so stark but I’m almost saying what I’m feeling.
Soon I’ll be away on flight and days will pass like a stream that’s slowed and I’ll be out of a room and I to a field of rational space.
But when I’m running and breathing and coming back to life, I’ll no longer be free. Because when you are deeply in love, heavily and and stupidly in love, you can’t be free unless you are with them.
I’ll be oxygenated but missing my heart, which will be them.
I’ll leave behind the stale choke of anxieties that mold over me . But.