the darkness in immobility

when i stepped off the plane into heathrow airport last november, i had left my life behind. i went in search of freedom from my past, to let go of what had been holding me back, so's to find and make my way on my own.

and i did.

i spent two weeks getting through europe on my own, kicking my past to the curb every step of the way. i had the time of my life, and in reading my journal from that time i feel refreshed in the memories of those sanguine days and nights.

but now i'm stuck. i can't move. i'm still searching for the answer(s) i didn't find there. or anywhere. i try to be patient, waiting for someone, anyone, to tell me what's next, but i know only i can know, and can only know when i'm meant to know. but not knowing makes me fucking nuts. and forces me to...

detach. disengage. isolate.

i. am. (un)comfortably. numb.

i am still listening to the same playlist i made in the weeks between europe and christmas. i'm stuck there. it still feels like my now: "i want to change the world, but instead i sleep." "i get lost in the beauty of everything i see." "what the hell am i doing here? i don't belong here." "you reach for the sun, afraid of the day." "i can't stop and catch my breath." "you don't see me." "paranoia is in bloom."

sometimes i force myself to make plans, and spend every second between the making of the plan and its fruition dreading the company of others and knowing i'm going to have to attach, engage, integrate. and i'm not sure which is worse: faking it for them or trying to explain why i can't.

change is hard. it's unsettling. it's risky. and it's lonely. i feel it all around me, in every breath i take and hold, in every direction i look, in every breeze that passes me by. i just don't know where it's going. or when.

but in all this darkness i never lose sight of hope. and i keep my faith that the when and where is a beautiful time and place, that in the end it will have been well worth this struggle.

~k