con la escritura como mi testigo, escribo

days pass and a blank mind sits silently behind movement. then, one day the lifting of an arm triggers the thought: i am solitary even in a group. i cut construction paper and wonder: what is it that makes patricia and paloma content? how can one choose happiness if it is contrary to one's character? i pick up a piece of paper from the ground and contemplate: what do i emote that leads some to consider my inverted tendencies as rejection? i am in a room with other teachers but i have built up my island. i do not want to judge and grow differences. so i roam inwards and create distance. my personality settles in the swamp. this makes it hard to respond, even harder to hear well. i fear that i am making them question their decision to invite me to teach in their language.