I've been feeling strangely distant lately: from myself, from others, just in general. (The urge to add another 'from' in that list was strong, but I've no idea from what other than myself and others I'd feel distant.) I'm not sure what, if anything has sparked this, or if this is just a usual state of events that I am noticing more. It's probably tied, a bit, to the feeling of restraint I've rediscovered in just about everything I do, from walking, to speaking, to even thinking most times; it feels as though I must remain in check for some reason.
I used to really take both a great deal of pleasure and pride in letter writing. All through high school, I wrote long, rambling, occasionally playful, occasionally philosophical (by my standards at the time) letters to a small cadre of distant and not so distant friends. This carried on into early college, but then petered out as other drama unfolded, and horizons shortened. Off and on, I've tried to bring that back via elecronic media, for the urge to write, to communicate via words, just won't leave me alone, no matter that it's often more frustrating than satisfying. There's something almost sacred to me about the closeness necessary to summon forth a presence in my mind, that sum of all I know of a person, and all at which I've guessed to fill in the gaps, enough to be able to connect in a dialogue that is necessarily prefabricated and anticipatory. To me, the point was to always write as though I was present, and had all the time and confidence to let the words just flow.
Now, I flex my sesquipedalian muscles and wax rhapsodic about my pains and frustrations on a tiny stage at the end of a dingy alley on the internet, and wonder why I don't feel connected.
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