Although I probably believed that for a long time. I thought I could do it on my own as I had for many, many years. I was good at it and still am. Ships would sail by and an occasional “Ahoy, there!” would be said but they would carry on to their intended destination so I was something to be seen just long enough to be polite, but not long enough to stay. I actually preferred it that way. Sometimes, I still do. When we choose to hole ourselves into a self-depraved world of keeping everyone else out, we are not living. We exile ourselves away from others, probably on purpose. Probably because we are afraid. People that know me know that I have been more open than I have been and if I need help, I am better (although not good and apologize later for needing that help) at asking for it. That may never go away, but feeling like a possible burden on someone else is more than I could bear so I just keep it to myself. It makes me be stronger and learn more about the way I want to live my life. At times, I can be a recluse and almost hermit-like when I go to my island. Solitude is not something that frightens me or makes me feel uncomfortable in any way. I know it can make others feel like they are lost and they need to constantly need to have people around them. I think it reminds them that they are still alive. From time to time, I have to leave my island and seek out those people and places that bring me the greatest of joy. Looking for and finding “home” again is one of the best feelings in the world. When you see someone who you have not seen for some time and the smile they give you matches the one you give them. When the hug is truly heartfelt and not something to rush through because people are watching or you care what others think. I cannot live on my island forever and come ashore much more than I used to, even if there is no real reason other than to just to leave the island. I know where it exists and I can choose to go back there as often as I want. But, no man is an island.
Michelle Homme 2012 ©