Silence is not a term I know very well.  


Even in the places of most quiet I find that there is still the noise of my thoughts.  


I have gone back and forth over what to write about.  There has recently been certain occurrences that merit some type of literary acknowledgement but I have not brought myself to the place where I am able to put words to them.  All I know is that while there is a lot of quiet around me...there is a hell of a lot of noise.


The noise is coming from a place deep inside.  A place of longing.  A place that recognizes that the silence and quiet are only a mask and that bubbling under the surface there is more.  Lots more.  But what that "more" is I am not quite sure of yet.  


My whole life has been filled with moments of searching and understanding.  Trying to understand, is most accurate.  Trying to understand why somehow I always feel one...step...behind.  When I was younger I noticed how, when walking in a group, I never actually walked IN the group...but always a few paces behind.  I remember once as a teenager remarking this to friend.  I can't remember what she said but I remember the exact place in the school hallway I was when I said it.  I remember where she was standing and where the others were standing and how I, noticeably, was out of sync with the rest.  I remember feeling that sense of frustration of "catching up" but not ever really being able to do so because even as I remarked at how fast they always seemed to walk...whatever it was this friend said back to me...was said, BACK to me.  


In my memory now it all fades away and I can't recall what her words to my frustration were or even what my response to her words were.  All I remember is noticing that I was always behind.  Upon graduation, higher levels of learning and other "achievements" in life, that feeling of staying behind has never left me.  Even now, having reached a place in my professional life some would say was "successful"...I know the truth.  I know I am far from that success.  Oh, so far.  


And I know that sitting here...in the quiet...with only the distant voices being raised from my TV  and the louder tap, tap, tap strokes of the keys of my laptop, this seeming quiet is a veil that covers a loud roar.  


I feel that there is so much more to me than I have let out.  


I feel that there is so much more to me than I have let others see.


I feel that there is some great purpose or happening that I am compelled to accomplish or reach or attain or do...but for the life of me I don't know what that is.


Is it to write a book?  I have started and stopped this idea so many times.  Is it to write a song? I have so many.  Is it to achieve some noticed physical work or to discover something others only scoffed at.  I don't know.  


But whatever it is I am supposed to do.  It gets...fuzzy.  It gets....out of reach.  


Because my feet just aren't fast enough to get me there.


Therein lies the dilemma. 


Health, happiness, future...all one step out of reach it seems.  Sometimes I get so close I feel feel it and even smell it.  Sometimes those things I long for are so tantalizingly close I feel that I am just a breath away. Then suddenly the room gets dark again and all color fades out and I am back in the familiar behind spot...just shy of whatever it was I was reaching for.  Back in that hallway at school...trying to keep up.   This can be rather depressing lol.


But something deep in my heart never lets me get to the point where I am left bereft of hope.  Something pushes me to keep going and keep reaching.  Because...it has to be better than this.


This...present....has to be better.  This place I am in...has to be better than this.  Not that its horrible.  Not that its great either.  But it just has to be better.  


A fear has just been revealed.  What if, upon reaching the "better" it is not the "best"?  And I become one of those people always wanting the more out of a life filled with more? 


 I don't think I could ever be one of those. 


 All I know is that these words go out across the universe.  One day someone reading this will know the feeling.  They will identify with these sullen words and say, yes, I know what she feels like.  


And maybe they will stop by and have coffee...and we can have a chat about it.


That would be nice.