...comfort zone...

How big a zone must I create to feel comfortable? And what shape must it take for it to function as it should? People I know almost always would tell me that they have already defined their comfort zone. It was only a matter of shyness on my part to ask if I was ever inside it. Not that I really cared. Nor did it really matter. I cannot really find use for some information I do not understand.

It’s a funny thing, this zone is. I imagine it to be an osmotic barrier, invisible though, but can only filter in one direction, with much difficulty at that. Things tend to pass through it by natural selection, and not by choice of those that created the barrier. It’s an emotional filter that brings the protected some level of security – emotional or otherwise – but at the same time provides immeasurable degrees of transparency. Friends come and go, not necessarily through that zone, but they do come and go. Family exhibits the same.

I asked a friend not long ago to shed light on her comfort zone for me, how big it is, what shape it has taken and who is in it. There was little convincing on her answer on what it was, or what’s inside it. However, it was definitely clear to me what was outside it. The absence of things gives more definition to their existence.

I do not know how big your comfort zone is, but it’s starting to feel like I’m outside of it. This chaos in my mind, this uncertainty in my feelings, this madness in my thoughts – all these make me think that I have gone at least an inch away from your borough. And being outside, we both have moments that are no longer ours, but separately yours and mine alone. Take me back in; let me bask in that comfort which you bring. If I must beg of you, then I will, if only to savor again the refuge I find with you next to me.

Or is it you who has gone outside of my comfort zone?


note: inspired by recent conversations with lysistrata (http://perfectlytarnished.blogspot.com)