She called it a lot of things: Busy, committed, involved. But under it all, she knew. She understood what she never said. It wasn’t busy. It was lonely.
Keeping herself attached to a project, a cause, allowed her to step away from the empty hours and the echoing walls. Bouncing inside the crowded, the noisy, the chaotic, she defined her outline. Without those borders, those edges, she dissipated and bled into the empty, filling it with more nothing.