©2013 Rick Hardman
I often feel as if I am trapped within a bubble. The wide world is all around me but here I am isolated
and separate. It seems impossible to escape into the reality that surrounds me. Nor can others enter my world. I just float on and on, alone.
Weightless, in the air, I swim frantically towards the transparent sphere surrounding myself. As I approach the imprisoning surface, it frustratingly floats away, always just out of reach. Never to be penetrated. Contact with other souls is apparently not allowed in my world. I’m destined to get on with making a life for myself, alone within my sphere. I cherish my portal of communication – my computer which reaches out and finds the world. Music surrounds me. My senses: taste, hearing, sight and smell reward and remind me of the many things life can offer. Touch, not so much.
It rarely rains in my bubble but, damn, it can get cold!
Introspection is a constant exercise I perform. For who else knows me as well as I do? I am the expert of myself. Surely, you will allow me that.
Words are my toys. I move them up, down and around and around.
I might have strings attached to my appendages. I can’t see or feel them but something controls me.
Certainly a separate source. My marionette master.
An epiphany! We are each and every one of us in bubbles. We live in a carbonated world.
This is the fourth piece Rick Hardman has contributed to Catching Courage. He writes with candor and a keen eye. He also wrote That Old Man Hiding in My Mirror, Gossamer threads, and Hornets in my head.]