One of Them

I used to work in a place where you would often see guys walking down the halls in blue jeans, T-shirts and tennis shoes. Everyone else was in uniforms or suits. These guys would drag their fingers along the wall, be staring at the floor, and talking to themselves. It wasn’t weird, just a little different.

Then, one day, I found myself walking down the hall, head down, working on an argument for something or other. Half way down the hall, I realized I was not just arguing in my head, my lips were moving, and I had actually vocalized what I was prepping for my speech.

It’s that moment, in a crowded hallway, filled with groups of people talking, that I realized I was quite alone.

It happened again today. I was sitting in my house, sitting across from my hubby, listening to music and playing a game on my phone. I was elsewhere, alone, talking to myself and actually saying words. And no body heard them. Quite alone.

I’m not sure if it’s just sad or what. Is it a life of quiet desperation? Hell if I know. I’ve already given all my secrets away. No need for a secret keeper anymore. It’s just me and these four walls.


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