walking

Some days I think I really am losing my mind. I can’t stay in one place, physically or mentally: I have wandering feet and heart and mind. I don’t know what I want, or who I want, or where I want to be. So I set out, with no destination in mind, phone in hand. And no one calls. Not one of my friends ever calls me to say hello, how are you, I know things have been hard but are they better now? No one ever calls. There’s no God, no time, and no end in sight.

Most days I’m just surviving. I hide it well. Enough people have commented on my peaceful personality for me to absolutely sure that though my mood hasn’t improved, my acting certainly has. I am not at peace, I have never been at peace. And I do not think it is my role in the world to be peaceful. I think I am meant to be unsettled and never quite happy. Maybe that’s all I can expect from life, these swells of triumph and despair. I will never know an even keel.

And every day, that frightens me. Because I am a romantic, and I want to be with one person eventually. Because I want to be a friend and to have friends. Because I’d like to have my own family, one that isn’t mired in the wallows of religion and dysfunction. Because I want to be free. Of this, of myself, of the thoughts in my head. Most of all, I want to be free of my memories, because I cannot live in them anymore and survive.