It’s been fantastically difficult to do anything useful this week, and that’s not to say that I haven’t been useful, but that I haven’t been satisfied with this halfway feeling that’s just taking up a lot of space without really doing anything; a balloon filling up with air, a final inhalation, or exhalation, I’m not really sure. Just holding my breath to find out
what these lungs had in mind. It’s hard to understand what my leaving means to this place, also. There are lots of redundant thoughts pacing around in this little room, their footsteps all muddied together. I don’t know what thoughts are coming and what are going; if thinking about my plans is really preparing to be home or just the hatching of a desire to escape that, honestly, has been incubating ever since I came back. And then, after all that doubt, I find out that I don’t really have any plans..?
