“I guess home is wherever my body is.” – Me
“That’s beautiful.” – Him
i knew from the start i don’t belong in these parts
Is it beautiful? Is it a blessing or a curse that I’m restless, unattached with an awareness of temporal grounding wherever my feet take me, and the place I feel most at home is when I am completely displaced, surrounded by newness? It’s been this way ever since I can remember.
living in a lonesome galaxy
I function best in fear of the unknown, with the only familiarity being that which has been with me forever – my own body. The truth is I do wander and wonder, but not in an aimless fashion, but rather with the secret hope that one day, I’ll find a place outside myself that is home. A place that brings the comfort and safety, perceived or otherwise, where my body, and the soul within, will finally be at rest.
but in my dreams, i see them come and rescue me
If the inability to feel anything I try on as quote unquote home as a non-expiring fit, and that the deliberate, inherent search in itself is beautiful, perhaps he is right. Plus, he also expressed he thinks I’m cute from head to toe, thus deeming him a reliable source. Mobile or otherwise, if I’ve learned anything from southern living, true “I’ve finally made it.” success is measured by the cuteness of one’s home.
i watch my life backwards and forwards and i feel free
I’ll continue to roam, process, live, and most of all, love. Wherever I go, I’ll remember that life is beautiful, and much like my own body, short. From what I do conceive to be the length of my life on earth, and though I understand very little overall, I do believe it’s too short to not live it to its fullest.