And here you are once more, alone with your thoughts. It’s probably the worst possible scenario as of this moment.
You’re starting to think of the boundaries.
“Is this okay?”
“Is this too much?”
“Am I allowed to ask?”
Road boundaries are obvious. You see physical marks here and there. You even see signs as to how far the boundary actually is. You get a heads-up first, that way you’re aware that you have crossed to another territory. The signs are clear and there’s no room for second thoughts.
Real life boundaries are a pain. Sometimes it’s as clear as day and you think, ‘Yea, I’m not crossing that one‘ but then as you approach it, it suddenly becomes vague and unclear. There’d be times that the boundary still seems a few meters away. Then, there’d be times when the boundary is already behind you. You’ve crossed it unknowingly and have entered unfamiliar territory.
There’s always an option to talk — to ask.
“Where are we?”
But the sad thing is, as you’re about to speak, the words die in your lips. And then you hear yourself say:
‘I’m glad we’re here.‘
It’s not entirely a lie neither is it the truth. It’s a combination of both that you’ve come to use.
Going down the road, there are now new sights, new people, new music, and even new emotions. Everything’s foreign and you’re feeling lost. But just a squeeze on the hand and all of a sudden everything’s okay. Not because of the beauty of the place, the sound of the music, nor the blissfulness of the emotions. But because of the familiarity that in this new territory something is constant.
That’s what you think.
You can find yourself asking roundabout questions, of ‘How are we‘s
And you find yourself answered with, ‘Everything’s the same. I’m feeling dandy.‘
You look back and see the vague, almost-gone boundary slowly fade but never completely fading. Like as if it’s reminding you that you’re in a foreign territory and you will have a hard time going back.