I sit in a place of in between. No longer attached to the past; not yet ready for the new. Patiently waiting for what, I do not know. All the old structures have crumbled, no longer able to sustain themselves. Everything I thought I was, revealed as illusion. Where do I go to next? I feel like I am in a state of life between lives. That place after death: the waiting room; waiting to take on the next role.
A strange situation it is, too. I am here, but at the same time not here. Part of this place, but also strangely removed from it. Family and friends gone, disappeared as though they never existed. It’s as though I have been picked up and placed in another setting, another play. A play not yet revealed. It’s not a scary place, but a strange place; like I’m in a foreign world observing the natives, trying to grasp their language, their rules for life, even. I feel like an intruder, as if I don’t belong; which I no longer do.
I’m not who I was, but as yet not who I am.