Second installment: Experiential writing
That’s all, that I am.
And that I am here. It’s all that I can manage at this moment. I don’t know why it is so difficult for me. Everyone around me whirrs in a dance I haven't learned. It includes laughter and other people and glib music and chatter- so much noise and movement it paralyzes me. I see it but I am outside of it. It’s like a movie next to my own existence; I watch but can’t participate.
My world is thick and dimly lit; full of shadows. Decisions are not made here. I exist as a silent witness to what is happening. Each time someone comes too close or tries to engage me, I recoil, backing further into the shadows. I concentrate on not shutting down. I think.
I want to stay. It is that spider’s thread that glimmers every once in a while, if I concentrate, attached to hope.
Others toss hope around like a big beach ball in a game. I cannot see it in my world, but I know its there. So, I concentrate on the glimmer and follow.