The WindowMature

Dear Traveler,

Do you feel like you've been here longer than the years have permitted, just as I do? Like the flame that keeps you lit has emanated heat longer than the light it has to show for? It's not something I can fully describe, let alone comprehend. I rarely talk about it, do you? Is it wisdom or some rare intuition? Whatever the case, I feel isolated by this gut feeling. Not the sort of isolation where I feel left out though, more like an observer... maybe even a teacher?  Maybe you're not like me, but if so you would be without the burden, I assure you.

Listen Traveler, everyone's told me not to talk to strangers, but I feel like I know you. Strange I know, but I'm almost fully convinced everyone was wrong. They tell me I gotta box myself in and make sure that box doesn't break. For safety reasons of course, but it's lonely in here to say the least. The walls are filled with routine patterns that my mind has traced forward and back. Odd thing is, I have guests all the time, but loneliness is not a matter of company as I've learned. Honestly, I have become recluse in this life, sad I know. How about you? Most people give me the same answer, "same old, same old." Funny isn't it? Not exactly irony but at least it humors me for a moment before I return to studying the wallpaper of my little box.

So much information crammed into the flat obstruction I call my Opinion. Most of the time I'm completely lost in it all; passing through a sea of people all secluded by their own little boxes. But sometimes I find a way through my Opinion. I know it's hard to believe, maybe you haven't seen it yet but I promise it's there. What I mean to say, Traveler, is that there's a window that we look through from time to time; and when we do gaze through its confines the sight beyond is hard to fathom, you must admit. It's at that moment, when it all becomes oddly reminiscent. As if everything you've ever done up until this point is tiny portion of a long, deeply purposeful journey.

Yet, it doesn't last long.

You lose the window, and you can't tell the difference between where and when you saw the window last. So you go on, beating your heels until you can't march another pace. You might see that window again, you might not. But the window is there. The hard part about finding it is that your are too busy looking at your own Opinion. If you, me, and everyone else on this astronomically small rock we call Earth would just focus. It would all become clear.

But can you blame us? We are too good at making lives feel short, and invaluable to the point of no return. Perhaps, Traveler, we are old souls, you and I. I've heard it plenty of times, enough to make me curious. Do you believe in reincarnation, Déjà vu or the like? Have you been here before? Honestly?

Today I found my window, Traveler, and I think I'm not alone.

The End

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