Leaden in this bed, I am drunk on the cavernous echoes of my thoughts. They ricochet in wild confusion from every point in this room...
How did I get here?
Where am I going?
This road, where will it lead?
My abstract, eager search for Home.
Time and again I want premature answers. I want certainty, to know the result before I give myself to a direction. Like wanting to package the stars, this too is impossible. What is my purpose, what do I have to offer that fuels my small existence in this world? Is there a niche, a place in the puzzle where only I fit? Will there be someone who fits me, who fits with me in that place? And when will these answers be unveiled? Foolish thoughts...foolish, unanswerable inquiries, and still, I am ever hopeful that this journey finds a destination where infinite doors will be flung open for new but rooted chapters in my life. In my mind this state of home is that foundation from which everything else flows smoothly.
...idealistic.
It is the proverbial anchor wedged fixed in the sand where everything tethered to its weight makes sense and holds steady.
...romantic.
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