"..the hope we have

is so much to feel good about.."

Dear lonely isle,

Its the quietest its ever been in here.

The silence is calm, soothing.

I could really get used to this.

For once, its not filled with the roar of mumbled thoughts and whispered worries.

For once, it feels really good to be alone.

For once, I am me, and I'm alone inside my head.

Sometimes I wonder how I got from there to here, from then to now.

It used to be the city that never sleeps, now its just a lonely island.

Quiet, and contented.

As I go about my life, through the motions, the routine and the bustle of training, its the same, and yet its different.

Maybe because it feels different on the inside.

Sometimes I get really tired at the end of the day, but no matter how busy it felt, inside I was the tourist on the hammock, reading my favourite book, relaxing by the beach on the lonely island.

There are still little worries and insecurities that nag at me, but they're just quiet murmurs in the vast white emptiness that is now my mind. And right in the middle, is a small patch of blue, a calm spot of sea, with a single island in the middle.

I'd like to believe that this is what meditation feels like.

What a zen state of mind feels like.

What it truly means to look into the Mirror of Erised, and see just your reflection.

I'd like to think that I'm truly happy right now.

And part of it is being able to be me, and just me.

If it were any old me, I'd wish that this could last.

Right now, even if I said it, I don't think I can mean it, because I'm really contented with the moment, and the next, and the one after that, and each one that follows.

Even so, I'm still very much me, and still very much a worrywart more than ever, with not-so-subtle hints of paranoia.

Who else can be perfectly contented, and worry that something might be wrong with them for feeling this way?

Maybe there really is something wrong with me.

Love, Joyce.