I miss Scintilla, it came along right at the right moment. I was struggling to find the words to say, and it gave me the gift of the spark, the idea, the push to find the momentum to put words on a page. And now it is gone, fading in our memories as a part of the good ol’ days. I am left with the here and now, with every triumph, every struggle, but mostly with everyday mundanity that threatens to underwhelm the spark right out of life.
I have always been a talker. I love whispering in the dark, chatting on the phone, sharing bits of myself and my day as I go along. I have always come here to share my words, my thoughts, my dreams. And yet. Lately I find myself not even wanting to check this place. The words are running from me, sprinting fearfully ahead and ever out of my grasp. I want to be significant. I want to matter. And in those wants I have lost my voice.
I need to be able to come here and talk about my job hunt. But I worry that I’m not funny enough to convey this in a way that people will appreciate.
I need to be able to come here and express my frustration that nothing in my wardrobe fits. But I am silenced by those who say anyone in a size 8 or smaller shouldn’t complain about weight or clothes.
I need to be able to come here and wail about how hard it is sometimes to live on a continent far away from all my family. But I fear not being strong enough to do it on my own.
And even more, I fear the silence that is the response to most of my life. Every day I check the social websites, scour them honestly, for some connection between me and others. Most days the only email I receive is a 50% off offer from Shutterfly. I am craving human connection with the people I know in the world at large. Even as I try and build new little friendships here, on our island of a base, I still need the contact from those who have been here before.
I am trying to find my words again. Without the help of a guided promp. Without the fellowship of new readers. Just me, my computer, and some cathartic words.