There is one thought that keeps biting at the back of my head that I cannot seem to silence no matter how hard I try to drown it through the daily performance I pull; the lack of belonging to anywhere.
I cannot silence out the nostalgia of missing out on a very intriguing reality. I find it lurking in my subconscious whenever I walk on the sidewalk of any city, or, strangely, the cold corridors of a mall, where people sit mesmerized at park benches around a fountain.
I do not belong anywhere. I barely knew my neighbors, for they change every few years or so. The markings of our heights on kitchen door frames seem to be distributed over the different “homes” we lived in growing up. In 30 years I’ve lived in 11 houses. It wasn’t out of poverty, far from it, we just didn’t have an anchor.
I find a dull sense of life. Everything is in a state of permanently temporary Read the rest of this entry