Solitary Dandelions

You know those dandelions that we used to blow on as children, completely oblivious to the fact that we were planting multitudes more with each breath as the cotton-like seeds scattered across the grass?  

Sometimes, I feel like one of those little flecks of white that fly across the summer sky, only I'm still floating years later.  Spring, autumn, and winter have echoed as they crossed my path multiple times since I've felt attached to something.  I'm alone, and lonely, floating through the sky.  People can appreciate me from a distance, but they can't really catch me.  Or maybe they don't want to.  I really don't know.  I'm not depressed, but I think the silence, or the segregation is finally taking its full impact.

Sometimes I think I'm watching myself live my life, and I'm never really happy with the complacency that I'm stuck in, but no matter how much I try to get this person who's living my life to live beautifully, she won't seem to parallel her actions with my aspirations.  Her replacement is cold, and the person she once was is gone.  I'm sorry for that, to you who expected more from me.

What's worse is that I can't pretend I'm not scared for the eventual seed I'll place in the earth when I finally land on the grass, or that I'm not wretchedly terrified of the person who will pick me up for the sake of simple appreciation.  I can't pretend that I'm not afraid to wake up, or to reattach myself to someone.  It's like people who spend years in solitary confinement.  How do we live when we return to earth as so many have seen it for years?

It's insane that I even think about my life in terms of something as ridiculous as a dandelion, but you know, I can't seem to get that idea out of my head.