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Muted

I find myself sitting in muted silence.

No white noise, no static, no background music.

For someone who has always found comfort in words, the silence is sometimes deafening.

Have I disappeared from your life?

Most likely so, and I apologize.  I’m still here.  I still observe, listen, read.  But so often, I can’t find the words to join in the conversation.

It’s hard to explain the changes I’ve gone through.  Harder, still, to introduce people to the person I’ve become.  I’m still me, and yet I’m not.

For the most part, I’m somebody better than I was.

There’s this fluff that we carry around with us, over the top of who we are at our very core.  It shields us and gives us a buffer between our most bare, essential selves and the world around us.

I feel like I’ve lost mine.  Or, to be more precise, I’ve torn it off and set it ablaze.

I had a life that I loved, and it turned out that nothing about it was what I thought it was.  My carefully made plans, my hopes and dreams, all had to be released like balloons floating off into the distance.

It’s amazing to discover the person I’ve become, and to create a new life with new dreams, but I feel vulnerable.

I’m starting over as my truest, most authentic self.

And I have nothing to hide behind.

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