I never really feel as if I belong anywhere.
Some days I feel like I need to be in one place.
Other days I think I need to stay right where I am.
And then there are the days when I think that maybe I don’t need to be in either of those places at all, but maybe somewhere completely new.
Of course, then, I’d feel the need to go back to the other two places, as well as the one I settled in, effectively splitting myself into three pieces instead of just two. Maybe this is an occupational hazard of being a “wanderer.”
And then I throw up my hands and figure that maybe, eventually, if I’m patient, I’ll figure out where “home” really is… I get tired of being a nomad all the time. But then reality sets in and I realize that no matter where I go, I’ll always have demands to meet in the original place. I am exhausted with demands. Sometimes I just want to curl up into a ball (a happy little ball) and be satisfied with things for a minute.
That said, I’m going on vacation, back to the other place. I’ll finish posting narratives and the like after I have returned and sewn myself back together (I think the stitches get thinner every time I travel).