My home is gone. There is an aching hole inside, from being ripped out and left dangling.
It was the only place, in my life, that was MINE. Mine alone.
And it's gone, for god knows how long.
I'm at my parents house. And then I'll be at my cousin's house.
And then, if I'm lucky, I'll be in dorm. Which is exciting.
But still suspended and blown around.
I will be trapped here, alone, for a week, starting tomorrow.
Too far from anything to leave, unless I steal the car.
I got dropped at my parents' house today, by my Artist, after a wondrous three weeks.
I'm giving him solitude for his birthday. It's a good gift for him.
But alone on alone, is hard.
But I've been too tired to react.
And that's good.
It is, in fact, all good.
Things are moving, finally.
Things have been beautiful.
Things will be still and again. I know.
But.
I don't know. Something.
I ache. But I'm tired.
So goodnight. |
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