All at once I feel sought after and ignored. Enlightened and lost. Confident and riddled with doubt. Is it the weather that keeps changing, or is it the things that drive me, that inspire me, that lift me up and send me crashing down? For the first time in my life I'm unsure of every decision I make. I keep choosing and choosing and choosing, waiting for some sign that the choices I make are right or wrong. But it's never clear enough. It's wandering in the desert, expecting an oasis just beyond the next rise... and then making it to the top only discover more sand on the other side. Do I continue? Am I still going the right way? Was I ever? There's nothing but sand all around me, and I'm dying of thirst.
All I want to do is escape. To live like a vagabond with no home and no plan and no decisions to make beyond my next meal, my next route, my next destination. But running away won't solve anything. It will leave me hollow, unfulfilled. Always running, always searching, never finding whatever piece of me is missing. So I stay. Sometimes I choose, sometimes I think, sometimes I wait. Sometimes I speak, sometimes I listen. Sometimes I act. And sometimes I hide. But is hiding all that much better than running away?
I never expect answers to just come to me, but I always expect to find them eventually. But it's been days, and weeks, and months and I only grow more and more unsure of myself. I ask myself the same questions, day after day, trying to look at them from every angle, but finding that's they're all the same.
I keep telling myself that everything works out. Everything works out. Everything works out, everything works outeverythingworksout. This is it and that's okay.
But I'm adrift at sea. All I can do is wait to be washed up on the shore.
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