“One night to be confused,
One night to speed up truth”
That’s what I am left with in this house, my Home No.1, my starting point.
I hate to think about these things, because I can’t talk about “leaving” and “my last whatever”s without sounding like I’m not coming back.
But I am coming back, of course I am.
I still haven’t figured out a way to talk about my departures as transit points. I still haven’t gotten used to being from multiple places.
And I know that the elements of these different places don’t belong to each other.
I wouldn’t be comfortable seeing them together, blending in, effecting one another.
That’s why I chose to be away, in a way.
I wanted to grow out of my home. I wanted clarity. I needed to be alone, to become someone once again.
I don’t think I changed, I’m quite the same. Maybe a little bit bolder about who I am.
But that’s the thing:
Everyone from Home 2. knows me for what I am. They don’t know how I came to be. They don’t know the people who knew me. They just know me.
And I like that, because that also gives me a clearer outer perception of myself, a more detached version of me.
I don’t get to get away with blaming other things then me.
“To call for hands of above to lean on,
Wouldn’t be good enough for me, no.”
I feel like this state of constant-journeying sort of solidifies my in-theory indepence.
However hurtful it may be, this was the one thing I wanted to prove to myself.
Going back to my initial point about departures and transitions:
I am someone who thinks you can “call” bad luck if you speak of it. So that’s one of the reasons I hate not to have the proper words to talk about my “last”s in this house.
I need words that mean “last for the time being” or something like that.
I don’t quite know.
Something less definitive.”
Let me know if you find the words,
*Something to think about in relation to my pseudonym.