Psychic Summoning

I squeezed my eyes shut, as in my darkest hour, I put the entire strength of my heart into one hopeful telepathic call. A summons to an angel whose whereabouts are currently unknown to me. The storm hovered over me as I drifted aimlessly, lost in my own memories, and the pain I felt everywhere around me. I revisited the paths we took all those years ago, the places we sat at and talked for hours at a time, desperately needing peace. I believe there is no need for me to elaborate further, as half my blog is filled with him. He lurks behind every other sentence, the silent force that animates me. Perhap I really have lost him forever, in which case it is time I returned to my own destiny. Which is what, precisely? In less than 24 hours, I will have aged another year. Plants grow towards the sun, men move towards their dreams, yet I find myself suspended, static, unmoving. I have managed to fool myself into believing that I do not need guidance. I'm Peter Pan, but I have no idea where Never-Never Land is. If you you think this post is me self-aggrandizing, you're mistaken. I know I am different, but never has it felt more damning. I am losing my grip on faith, one slip a day. So what if I can see into hearts as though they were open books? I cannot fathom my own. So what if I can speak languages unknown to most people? I can't hold a conversation with myself. I'm a terrible listener. I feel like running away, far far away where there are no people to be my mirrors and tell me what I am. I want to be far far away where there isn't anyone who hurts. I want to be far away from anyone who's hurting, who's broken, who's beaten. I cannot heal all these hearts, I cannot stop them from dying. Where is our Never-Never Land? I saw a man today, I saw a boy, I saw a girl. The man will lose his legs, the boy his heart, the girl her life. I couldn't do anything else except be nice. What can I say that will erase their losses? I can't heal, although on many occasions I wish I could. I can't help, can I? My heart is breaking, for those who deserve so much more, but are shortchanged by Fate. It hurts when you see people crying, but you don't quite know what to say. "In death, you'll find the peace you never had in life." That's just stupid. Yet, you know...it is in misfortune that you see the greatness inherent in every man. Doesn't anyone else care about them? Are we all so caught up in our own race to success that we forsake those who have fallen to the wayside? Where are our angels? Can my one small voice call out to every one of them, ensure that all these hurting people are soothed?
Disillusioned illusionist.