looking around my room and in my closet and my bookshelves, i see a lot of familiar things. things that aren't really threatening, but make me breathe uneasily. i feel about like an 80 year old in a town with a population of about 3 in the middle of a popular college town with children that still stop by to buy candy and icypops. and i know where everything is. only the town is my house. my house. that even sounds funny. my apartment. my residence. my shelter.
i'm in need of a "reset" button or something swift and changing like redemption. a flip. a catalyst. maybe this is the catalyst. my uneasiness.
writing this down reminds me that life is definitely not about me. saying it out loud makes me thankful that its not about me. hearing other people say it helps me love them. i get excited.
i'm glad that my things get stale and don't have character, because i have an excuse to love. i have an excuse to breathe and eat with friends who aren't satisfied with their cd collection being in the same corner for almost a year.
i just used about half a page just to say 3 words.
redemption is wonderful.
maybe i just like not being comfortable. maybe i'm glad we met and that you are a breathing, eating, changing, growing being and that i am too. we don't have to stay here. we can go. anywhere.
man, you're lucky.