Reflection: 18 Temporary Disposition
Beloved, I feel so lost. They say that’s what alignment looks like, but honestly writing and family are really my only tether. Outside of that, I’m a leaf in the wind. I’m mindful of the fact that past quests and searches for valour have grown obsolete. I’ve grown to accept that it’ll never be a constant — the path, the way, it keeps reshaping itself. I’ve had many titles, many mantles, and I wore them well, even when they were an awkward fit that grew uncomfortable once the lesson was over.
But I’ve never felt at home. I yearn for one — not necessarily a physical one, but one where I truly belong. I’ve always felt alienated, and though I know I wasn’t meant to fit in, it doesn’t make the isolation any easier. I think this distance, this solitude, comes down to rarity — few can truly empathise or understand.
As sad as that may sound, I’ve come to see that maybe it’s what gifted me this kind of sight — the ability to truly see people, not just their representatives. To witness the sum of their experiences, how it shaped them, taught them, scarred them. Maybe that’s the quiet grace in all this — that even from the ache of disconnection, I learned how to recognise the humanity in others.
One of the purest things I sought after was that understanding, but as I stand here now, in parts a shell of a past self, like Bran Stark after becoming the Three-Eyed Raven, I feel more like a witness rather than the witnessed.
Maybe that’s just the temporary disposition of this 2 a.m. reflection, in this quiet side of the night. Maybe at some point I’ll no longer be in the back seat, and finally take flight — once my wings are healed. Maybe then the next steps will finally be revealed. I’ve accepted the pace, the work, this phase.