Getting lost is easy,
Finding yourself is hard.
Making others see you is hardest.
Whispers betray a deeper confidence.
Self-esteem, lost steam, and meanders to dark hidey cubbyholes.
The numbness that overcomes a sensibility can be like a long warm stretching melted butterscotch pour.
At first it is easy to submit to,
But then it becomes restrictive as it collects and envelopes its subject.
Golden pliability becoming rigid and resolving to a sticky trapping mire.
Seeming to get on everything within reach,
Despite best efforts to free oneself from such encumbrance.
And, others go about their machinations.
Dedicating little or no fuss to such othered plight.
What is certain is the despair of being trapped in such stuckitude.
The greater the struggle,
The more precarious the opportunity of survival.
So professionally solo.
The greatest magic trick is not in making yourself disappear,
But in making sure others look to see if you reappear.
Relevance is relative,
But matters most to those that already lost hope.