You might be a tsunami or you could be the raft to safety. There are phrases, trigger situations that make her step back. She finds balance with the sea and forest. Rarely with other humans. So often taken personally, she is sometimes shy and many times wary. She knows what she carries; what she protects. One wrong step, and she is quietly observing again.
She doesn’t follow leaders. She is her own guru. She is a solitary yearning of scribing while others are trying to find answers they don’t believe they already know. You will rarely truly understand her. You will create your own perception of her, and it will become your view; your truth of her.
She has almost reached exceptions of exceptional aloneness. Shift change. She walks the road one foot at a time. From her perch, hovering above this planet, she listens. One sentence can change her elation to disappointment; hoping to expand knowing. She is distant and suddenly feeling in reverse. It’s all in the language. She swiftly re-stabilizes her skies.
Humans with the need to believe in anything, something, outside of the truth of who they are; some forever from the gray; when doing good comes with accolades instead of silent appreciation. It’s a sad state of a nation; planetary devastation, and she feels each heart caving.
I am here holding hers. Reminding her of home where there are no religions or rituals, no groups separating one from another or elevating egos; no clashing perspectives; just being in a space so pure, assessment is not needed.
So she keeps her eyes on the color, to swim in the gel like liquid again, each stroke a whisper against her skin. She is reminded that she chose this and so close to finishing it. She breathes deeply, exhaling her humanness.
Weary a bit, we see in her eyes when they leak water to seep, ejecting the pain and programming. There are volumes held in boxes. Some are scrawled. Some are typed. They may get thrown in a trash pile when she dies. But she’s leaving them behind, in a hidden conclave of trees. Where maps must be followed to find them. There must be laughter, even in death.
Then you will know. You will discover the life of the Otherkin, earthly hybrid, walking among the human ones, unnoticed and undetected save the green reflected in her emotional eyes.
I felt this deeply. Thank you for sharing Vennie!
This felt like solitude without apology. A reminder that not every truth needs a chorus.
Awesome, Vennie.