The Edge Of The World

‘Hey, you’re back,’ I said.
‘I am,’ I answered.
‘Er, and where exactly is it you are?’
‘I’m in the Pacific Northwest, on the San Juan Islands, on the edge of the Canadian border.’
‘What the hell are you doing there?’
‘I was invited. I’m glad I came. It’s so isolated and beautiful, it feels like the edge of the world…’
I stared at me. ‘You know, I wasn’t sure from your last post if you were travelling onwards or inwards. I pictured you missing the scenery as you examined your navel. So what happened to your digital detox?’
‘Well, being on the road I’ve been thinking about what it means to belong somewhere...’
‘I think you belong in an asylum.’
‘…and I think it’s the feeling that you matter and that people care.’
‘Yawn. So?’
‘So it isn’t just given, it’s a two way street, it needs attention from both sides. I looked at the last reader comments on here: some people read this and, whether I know them or not, they care. My invitation up here even came from this.’
‘So you’re saying enough with the selfish I want to be alone dramatics?’
‘So I’m just saying that finding belonging is hard in the modern world and shouldn’t be taken for granted.’
‘Who are you suddenly, the Dalai Lama?’
‘Screw you.’ I flicked myself the finger as my other me gave me the V sign.