Losing Yourself

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There is a silence that I can’t recreate found at this lake. There is a quietness that permeates the most chaotic bits of your soul. My friends and I would pack up our cars early hours of the morning, and inhale deeply to catch the sunrise.

We would hear the sound of the ducks quacking overhead. We would watch the fog dissipate as the sun cracked across the horizon. We would breathe in deeply even though we were sacrificing weekend sleep for this experience.

The way the waves moved across the lake, there would be an echo of these sounds in every heart room. And in spite of all of the keys you’d used to lock those rooms, the emotions invoked would crawl through the keyholes.

Everything that was wrong, for a moment longer, felt like it might just turn out in your favor. And you’d learn to savor the moments when responsibility could not touch you.

I ache for the emptying of my spirit. The way I could pour myself into the water. I could feel the baggage of my days melding with the dew on the grass

In these moments we couldn’t feel infinity, but we could sense our finite existence.

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