<< : 2003-09-05 :: 10:56 p.m. : >>
Dead Like me too.

Home? What is home exactly? Is it a place, people, an idea?

I never felt like I had a home, just a routine of anger and disappointments. I'm safe though. Is that home, safety I mean, isn't that a qualification, to feel safe? Bubble like in a sense, with no reason to ever go outside the world you already know. Their are no uncertainty's, no cause for alarm. Is that home?

I've never felt at home though, maybe because I'm insecure and rough around the edges. Maybe because my skin doesn't fit, and I'm so lost, that a blind man has more direction and courage than I do. Maybe I'm living on borrowed time, and my soul is withering inside my body. Rotting as I write this. Their are choices to be made, am I prepared to make them.

I have a lot to learn about fear, maybe you just leap, regardless, but can I?

So many people tell me what's wrong, how to fix it, what I'm like. How do they know? Presumptions? Maybe they see what I can't. Or maybe their so tired of me whining, they make up things to get me going. Who would blame them.

The people I surround myself are home, but are they? Or are they a reason to stay the way I am, because they'll never expect more of me, they'll yell and they'll get frustrated, but eventually they're voices will fade into memory, even as I become part of the earth. How do you choice a home, is it safety, or a place you lay your hat?

I feel like a chain smoker being ask to quiet cold turkey, maybe that's the only choice I have to make now. Maybe all subtleties have Vanished and all I'm left with is a hard reality to choose.

The invitation is there in my head, I need only say yes, but I worry about my health, about my intelligence, my capabilities, and the all the unknown factors I have no control over.

Where is my home? Will I ever find it?

KO gave me the invitation, she also gave me something that has echoed in my mind, I remind her of a story of an old woman who is schizo, and believes she is all these different people, when she clearly is not? I don't know what that means, except that I'm a phony, something I greatly dread. Another echo was that I'm borderline, and that because of that notion (not a fact, yet) she said that I'll end up killing myself. Am I headed start for the grave?

We all are aren't we just matter waiting to be particles again. What if my matter goes quietly into the night early. Perhaps it is not my destiny, but a choice I will make. With sadness I will tell the grim reaper I am not ready to go, only it will be to late.

Perhaps my home is the earth, and only when I return to her will I be released. Though Home to me seems to be the stars, the moon, the water. I feel peace there. I am not prepared to be me, to be this girl, whose body I posses, and frankly am tired of inhabiting. I feel uneasy, desperate, out of place, and worry constantly. She is hopeless, she is weak, she is lonely, and she has nothing to keep her here. What do you do when you can't even identify with yourself? Self self-destruct.

There are choices to be made, home to be found and a person to be. I'll hide away if you don't mind, because I don't understand anything.

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