To be here, again, in a place I belong and
don’t belong. To see the thoughts come to fruition beyond the stages of
inception. To be in a space of supposed love, but feel incomplete, and strange.
Get out of the road. I’ve walked this road so many times, but each time I walk
it, it takes a new form depending on the space inside my heart, or is it my
head. I leap towards the thought of going, and leaving. The slow process of
return. Beyond the glow I once had. If I had known then, what I know now, would
I have left at all? Each time I return, I become stranger. Less able to exist
between contrasts and borderlands, less able to be content within the
boundaries of my skull. More easily, I begin to see all the contradictions
within me. An awareness of it all spinning continuously. Now I want to go back.
Back to become more detached. Back to see if anything has stood the test of
time and water.
