23 days

Home is where the heart aches
For not so long ago memories and people and places
For new memories on the horizon
Constantly there is, in my mind,
Something about nothing turning into everything

Not everyone is made to be history makers
But we can all make our mark on history
If only for a few to vaguely remember

Haven't been in this dwelling for more than 14 hours
Already ready to leave
So sad, baby

I do miss Little Man when I'm gone
But I feel like I'm missing so much when I'm not going

Torn.

Stranger than non fiction

There’s just so much going on with me, and I’m scared of the truth.
And I’m scared of rejection.
You can say you love me all you want
But you don't love me the way I need you to love me
No one does. Or has. Or will.
Gravitational pull is pulling my mind down.
Even if the axis was to change, I don't think the direction would change.
Drifting in and out of thoughts of suicide, swimming in all too familiar sea of inaction and guilt.
Deeply rooted insecurities growing taller every day.

Homesick of home... even though I don't know where it is.
Getting on an iron bird soon.
Hopefully it doesn't have broken wings.