I'm waiting until tonight to write the rest of the last chapter of Distrust, so I wrote this little ficlet in the mean time while I was outside (and still am). I really love it, and like Chains, I would recommend reading it more than once to fully understand it.
I walk this road, traveling alone.
I don't think some people mind to be alone, but I'm not sure about myself.
There's childhood loneliness, the kind you get when you when you're sick for too long. The type of sorrow that creases your eyebrows and frustrates you, but just for a short time. As a child, I guess you adapt easily, almost forgetting completely friends who move away.
But I cannot forget.
Am I lost? Skittish because I can't find a place to stay and call home? Am I lonely, simply because no being accompanies me?
But this is the path I've chosen. Then again, it's the only path I know.
Or am I driven to the point of insanity, where having now one is a daily, calloused occurrence? Maybe I'm to the point where I don't mind being lonely, where all of the chaos doesn't matter anymore….
No! Even though my brain has given up, my heart is there, telling me that something is wrong.
So does this happen to every person? How about animals? I have been told that everyone experiences this long, endless road as a part of becoming someone that I need to be. But if I'm getting more emotionless by the day, is rejecting feeling really part of meeting the person I need to meet, the person that my mother met?
Is it part of becoming this person, the stress and toil of the road that is blinding me. Has it blinded the winged girl also? Have we both been trying too hard to become "human"? If so, is it the stress of life that makes us the modern definition of human? Be it smart, philosophical, or corrupted?
Am I experiencing this type of loneliness because I'm different, inhuman, and not fitting the current definition?
The winged girl is inhuman.
If I'm supposed to be comforting the girl, I must be like her.
So maybe instead of going the "human" way, I'll stop and try to find a home in this town. Maybe with the winged girl, it will be our home.