I often feel the need to scream from the highest mountaintop letting the echo roam throughout the valley. It’s pointless to do so. How would I know if anyone heard me or not? Would they even care if they did? For all I know I might as well be in space where no one can hear me scream. Except the aliens. They’ve got ultra-sonic technology to play with, and they might not care either. Instead, I go find an empty page to try to make sense of it all. Is that screaming a silent cry? Who knows? Perhaps it’s not for us to know. Not me, not you, not anyone. Perhaps this is one of those things we do and think about after the fact. A slight sense of relief in the form of self-help therapy. What we think it is, want it to be, or think it could be is beside the point. It is, and will forever be. Not to question, not to answer, not to judge. A simple place where we can go and scream should we feel the need. Me. You. Even the aliens. In our own space between the lines on an empty page.
Copyright © Drew Martin 2016