It is at these times, in my short history, that I feel the most invisible.
Being in another's home and another's family fills up that home to the rafters with talk, laughter and tears. I feel out of place and alone.
It is in these brief moments, that life seems to move so slowly. Each heart's breath becoming a painful suffocation of the soul.
Each tender palpitation of my breaking heart seems to burst asunder the doors, holding back the pent-up floods. Each shallow breath, drawn from the depths of my innermost being, shatters the barrier put up against the flood.
It is at these times, and only at these brief interludes, that I feel the most invisible.
Being in another's home and another's family fills up that home to the rafters with talk, laughter and tears. I feel out of place and alone.
It is in these brief moments, that life seems to move so slowly. Each heart's breath becoming a painful suffocation of the soul.
Each tender palpitation of my breaking heart seems to burst asunder the doors, holding back the pent-up floods. Each shallow breath, drawn from the depths of my innermost being, shatters the barrier put up against the flood.
It is at these times, and only at these brief interludes, that I feel the most invisible.
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