Alright

I'm all right y'all.
No really, I am alright despite what previous blog posts may have dictated.

The poem, if you even want to call it that, was an idea that popped into my head and I tried to see how far I could take it. It had been written in a journal that lies on my bed side table and was an idea that had been worked and re-worked many times; chicken scratches of words and phrases crossed out and crossed out again when I thought I had found the next best thing. That's all.

Granted, a part of it may have stemmed from some point of me. The world has seemed to be resting heavy on my shoulders lately for whatever reason. Emotions pile up and I don't feel the I have the right to express them because I know in no way is my life any more difficult than the person next to me; or because I know they're foolish emotions - temporary, fleeting - and i'll wake up feeling fine tomorrow; or because I realize that their not going to change any time soon so I might as well sit down and stay with them awhile. Revel in them, get to know them a little.

Loneliness takes a toll on me. Day after day spent alone leaves a lot of opportunity for me to be alone with my thoughts. I think of home, of the guilt I feel leaving yet another dog with my parents (they took on Dudley because G couldn't have him); or the guilt of not being there for my own; I think of the creature comforts I miss as well - 600 thread count sheets, a full wardrobe, pictures and decorations that are familiar to me; being able to drink out of a glass before inspecting it because I wonder what filth the last person left in it; I think of being unemployed, about being out of school about how unsuccessful and unaccomplished I feel; I think about stability and how badly I do without it; I think about the next time we'll have our home again and how long we'll get to stay there; I think about family and friends, how they get to share times without us and how that pangs the heart a little; or how I wish I could be there in times of need for my own family and friends, instead I have to somehow transport my heart and hands through the telephone rather than offer them up in person.

It's difficult being away, growing up, moving on. And some of these life lessons seem to come all at once like a big ball that rolls me over and puts me out of commission for a while. And I just want to run home to the safety of what I know but then realize that home is 400 miles away in a tiny, empty apartment that holds my heart.

So I take a deep breath and hope the next day gets better.