Lacking direction

Confused by direction and love, my head spins uncontrollably. A mix of emotions and an inability to know what is real, what is rational. February blues hit early this year (or maybe late) and are as capricious as my knowing where I'll be 2 weeks from now, let alone tomorrow. What am I searching for or running from? I have never in my life felt such a lack of direction and such a craving to be elsewhere.

I cannot trust my heart to a soul for it may be shattered.

Yet, I am so very privileged to have this choice, this time. And as the loneliness seeps in it is multiplied by what ifs and why nots. Beautiful lonely people in a world where privilege becomes an annoyance as we are pushed and forced and pressured to do something and do it now. I am governed by love and yet know not how to share it. Craving a lifestyle in which choice is vacant and love abounds. Let me be barefoot in the kitchen and take your baggage on as my own. I speak to no one or someone or anyone and pray that one day I will be balanced enough to love someone effortlessly.

Angered at society, at everything. In a state of disbelief, this can't really be our world, my world, it just can't be. Let us live in now, in forever. So in this moment, the here and now, I surrender. Tomorrow, well who the fuck knows? Massage therapy, Northampton, hospital unit clerk, Mexico, substitute teacher, a knife to my wrist. Maybe I'll just put them all in a hat and draw one.

But the most fucked up thing, through all of this, is that a smile is still stretched across my lips, the gentle kind that comes from compassion. And I'm learning lately, that compassion for self is maybe the post important kind.

Headed elsewhere

Getting ready to head off again. No destination, just a journey. People look at me strange when I say I'll be gone between a week and forever, so I've started saying I'm moving to Boston. Caroline doesn't even live in Boston and I've never been, but according to many I belong there (?). People ask how I can afford it. And for that I suppose I'm lucky. I don't see a necessity for surplus, I can make a little go a long way, and when I need it, I'll find it. I feel like Mexico was just a training, preparing me for traveling alone, sleeping on floors, being broke, finding beauty and pleasure in simplicity. But this time it's just me. No one to tell me where I'm sleeping, what I'm eating, or what tomorrow may bring. My traveling soul mate is wondering through a city I once found forever in, with a bar in which we slept on the floor, with a school where dreamy instructors distracted me from a language I thought I'd learn.

So I wonder. How to be whole without my Andrea and how long I'll last without Raul's guacamole. One day at a time. I feel drawn all over: South, North, East (not west for awhile-I promised Misty August). Connections to everywhere, meanwhile knowing that through solitary exploring I will learn myself.

To be alone. To truly be alone is something I have yet to experience, but am interested in what will surface and excited at the vast array of endless possibilities.