Too Much

Sometimes, the escape route has a traffic jam. There's too much walking away done by everyone else, finding the emergency exit doors when they need them the most. I'm still standing, but in the same spot I was a year ago. So I might as well be sitting, or sleeping, except I cannot. Change is mostly apparent at the reunion. Like when that Aunt you rarely saw commented on how tall you had become. It's like the "you have lost weight" observation by someone you rarely see. This leads me to think that some breathing space from myself is in order. Yet the only way to leave oneself is to become immersed in the life of another. This is too much like commitment. This is too much like something other than self reliance. This is too much letting go. Sometimes the escape route has a traffic jam; other times I freeze, still, in a burning building.