help wanted

take haste in your writing tonight, Lost Pedestrian, take haste for the moment of curfew is at hand!

said the voice

Today confronted with my perennial issue. the sense of always feeling like an intruder, that hounds  me everyday. constant hounding. I can think of a few people who might be able to help in different ways, but it’s so very very hard to ask for help. I run into walls with it.

And then, when the opportunity for getting someone’s help passes, that very thin window….  I wonder what would have happened if I had communicated with the person. And what if they were able and willing to give me the help I needed?. Maybe if I was not persistently reluctant to ask for help, it would open up the way for things to move in the direction I seek.

I just always assume that people might think I am trying to “use” them in some way. Or that their lives are too packed and it would be inconsiderate of me to barge in on them at any particular time.

And then if I ask for help, I am greatly embarrassed. It’s just this awful habit, isn’t it?

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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