Its rough. I`ve been in this situation before. As i look around, i find comfort in being able to identify some of the things i can barely see.
I`m not sure how i got here, but i think its gonna be...as it usually is....up to me to find my way home. Looking along the side of the road, i found an old flour bag, reasonably dry, and in one piece. Folding it in to a smaller square makes it somewhat comfortable, and will do until i gather my thoughts...or get picked up. I know the road, is pretty quiet, this time of day, but there is always someone....diving by...at all hours.
Alone...in the middle of nowhere, all this space....and no one. there is near silence, except for the odd sound i make, to remind me that i am still alive.
Hours pass, days, even weeks. Who`s counting? At times its all just a blur. Kicking gravel and pulling weeds,passes the time...but does not make it any easier.
Finally, someone see`s me, and stops. I know them, but we are not friends, and conversation is limited. I give brief directions to where i belong, and will sleep until...
Thank yous are given, and as i am...usually...gracious for the help, i say so....and then roll over....wake, to become stranded again.
2thedawn
