"I saw at sea a great fog bank between two ships that struck and sank..."

My entire life has prepared me for this moment, the moment I've realized failure. Failure in all things. Personal, professional, spiritual, emotional and relational. Everything. I sit here surrounded by the things my mother craves, and currently envies, but none of the things of which I've dreamed. A family. A lover. A child. None of those things are here, nor will they soon come near. I am alone and will be for the forseeable future. Although that future seems bleak.

There is, and has always been a sadness in me...around me. Like a bubble of fog clouding my view of possibilty. I've tried to reach through and others have grasped at my hands but none have stayed connected. I grow weary and let go of their grasp. Its easier to spread my fingers and fall than to clench them and hold on. I have always fought against only to, eventually, succumb to its call. The secession is now.

I've grown tired and need to speak. Not with my lips but, instead, the tips of those outstreached fingers. Hoping that others will hear and feel and share. Hoping. Wanting to no longer be alone.