dear manifestor, i hear your voice

Dear Manifestor,

I hear your voice, gentle but firm. You don’t raise it and you never forced your ideology onto me. You’ve said “you’re invited to come along, my Projector friend but don’t expect me to stick around.”

I grab a duffle and pack it with a first aid kit, snacks, water, and run back every thirty seconds because I forgot something. I want to protect you. You remind me that your built-in closed, pushing aura does it plenty. My overbearing impulses slows you down. You know I mean well but you don't have time to validate my feelings.

You write to me during your journeys. I get your postcards, always from somewhere different. You’re struggling to find circles to belong to but your networking has been exceptional. I tell you I’m so happy for you and send you a snack because I know you forgot to eat. Again.

In the margins of my mind, I think of you, wolf howling through the woods. I think of the other wolves who answer your call and how they’ve chosen you as the leader. Your voice is power and ripples through time itself to command change. I envy you. When I learned I was a Projector, I was bitter that I wasn’t you.

I read your last postcard. You needed a place to be angry because your plans fell apart. Something didn’t pan out and you’ve spent the last week rerouting. Your body is sore and demands rest. Your soul has other plans. To satisfy both, you’re taking a breather by writing to me, which… good, I’m glad, and by the time I read this, you’re off again.

You astound me, my dear Manifestor. You’re a dying, yet fierce breed willing to draw blood. Claws, fangs. Hair in the wind as you jump from cliff to cliff across the moonlight.

Don’t wait up. We’ll get there.

Thank you for paving the way.

-Fiona