There comes a moment when you’re walking down a lonely street, and you hear a whisper. A sound carried in the breeze, you tell yourself. No one is calling your name. Wind and leaves. The trees are not speaking to you.
But when the winds grow stronger, they cease whispering. A small misinterpretation? a whirlwind surrounds you, “Follow me. I have something to show you.” You feel the tug on your arm. Your sense of touch and sound overwhelm your eyes. You cannot see that there is no one there.
You take off running. The wind is strong, but you are stronger. Everything inside your mind and soul compels you to turn and follow. The blood rushing through your veins signals fear. You turn to face your enemy. It seems kinder now, somehow.
If it wants to show me something, let it. Maybe it is a friend.
Ignoring the sweaty palms, racing heart, and inner paranoia screaming in agony, you turn back and start running with the wind. Leaves flutter around you, dancing through your hair before landing solemnly beneath your racing feet. This feels right. Anxiety leaves, and purpose floods in.
You follow your guide, twisting around a tree, turning on the next street; you barely avoid being hit by a car, but that doesn’t stop you. You keep going.
Finally, you stop.
You look around. Your surroundings are unfamiliar. “This game isn’t fun anymore. I want to go home.” You look at your watch. You should have been at work 5 hours ago. What did you do again? Paper. You remember paper. Or maybe that’s just the rustling of leaves.
The world is a different place when you follow your demons. When fear becomes friendly, your views begin to shift. Your new friend places itself firmly between you and your view of reality. Sitting still as a statue, she cuts you off from who you are. But what if this is you? Might as well embrace it and settle in, because you are about to call this place home for a very long time.
Somewhere in the Middle 