Alone. The more people there are around me the lonelier it feels. The more I go out the more I want to just close my eyes and stay still. The more I laugh the more I want to cry. And I cry. Sometimes. Often. The more I feel the love of friends the stronger is the pain of being alone. Deep inside there is a voice that has been silenced. Absolutely no one around.

I have been extremely lucky all my life. The luckier I feel with the mundane things the greater is the feeling of emptiness. I am grateful. I take nothing for granted. I am grateful every time we eat. Because we have food on the table. I am grateful every time I pay at the supermarket. I am grateful we have everything we need. I am grateful to have so many friends. To have so many people that love me. I am grateful for being healthy. I am grateful for having strong and healthy kids. I am grateful for every act of kindness towards me and my family.

Surrounded by all this love. And I feel alone. The pain of being alone is like heartburn. It is this little flame that burns inside. Staying in the wind in a field of golden wheat. Like a little child. From my childhood in Russia. And the wind blows my hair over my face. And it is starting to rain. My clothes get wet. And I am alone. I want to run, but I do not move. I want to scream and ask for help, but I am silent. And the rain feels like tears on my face. And I am crying.

But the world is big. The world is beautiful. Flowers are simple to gather.