I sit.
My inner turmoil transitions seamlessly to a rolling boil.
Yearning to reach out for someone.
Longing to comfortably land on a shoulder.
Crying out for an ear to listen.
A voice from the turmoil sounds out from beyond the darkness in my mind.
"That someone will drop you."
"You'll only land in fire."
"All ears are deaf to you."
I sit.