do I exist? yes

sometimes when i try to walk across the street, cars don't stop for me. this naturally leads me to deeply question my existence. they may not be stopping because they are unobservant or in a hurry, or it could be because im not really here. sometimes for days at a time i dont talk to anyone at all, and i fall into my head. inside there its kind of grey and clammy and foggy and smells like oriental cooking. it's soft though, like its covered in moss and i can feel things watching me from behind shadows so im never lonely when im there. the shadows are dark and twist and turn like water in a storm. they fight and become hot and scream and make noises like papers rustling and glass shattering and sometimes eat each other. i hear voices too. at times they are crisp and clear and at others they're faint enough to have travelled across centuries. they discuss the purpose of my life and ask if i forgot to lock the door that morning. many times they're voices i recognize but sometimes they're not, and they talk to me about things that have happened and things that will never happen and things that could happen if i learn how to find out what i want. there are lights that float around, changing colours and becoming harsher and softer and bigger and fuller, and ill follow them sometimes for a long time until they become too dim or until the shadows get too dense or until i get too frustrated with the meandering path or until someone tells me the coffee shop is closing or that im blocking a stairway. and that's when i look up and smile and say 'thanks' and then in my head i say 'for confirming my existence'. someone always does that for me eventually, i guess im just waiting for someone who will do it in a meaningful way.

I came back to something familiar after being in an unfamiliar place for a long time. I was afraid I would come home to something different than I remembered, but it is the same. Home has one quality that makes it home to me, and that's safety. I don't have to defend my right to be here, it's a place that I belong to.I like being in far away places very much, but it's important for me to know home is still here. It helps me to be bold, and stable. When it disappears it's going to change me. I know that and I'm afraid of it. It's not exactly a sanctuary, but it's here for me.

People change though, always. Things with people aren't the same anymore, which I guess I should always expect. Relationships start and stop and grow and shrink and drink too much red wine sometimes and dance through displays of christmas lights and do 180s on snowy suburban highways at 3am. And there are always secrets everywhere from everyone, and they surface sometimes like lake monsters and then disappear again, leaving me wondering whether I really glimpsed them at all or if my imagination was just making things out of ripples and driftwood.

And I met someone kind of unexpectedly and wonderfully and perplexingly. And I spent time with him and I talked to him, and he talked to me and we talked to each other and we ate sushi and smoked sheesha and sat on the top of a snowy hill on some crazy carpets to watch the frozen sky turn purple and the street lights turn on. He talks about the economy and he likes Waking life and the tragically hip, and discussing nietzsche and he has a dog named holly and he picks up her poop in a little plastic bag when he takes her for a walk. And he laughs a lot - he has a wonderful laugh and when I hear it it makes me happy and excited. I've felt so betrayed and jaded in the last few months, and when he put his arm around me and rubbed my elbow I think it healed something important.

And, miraculously, I think he likes me too. I throw people off somehow. Often times people are unsure how to react to me, no matter how desperately hard I try to be transparent. But I think he likes that. I am unintentionally unconventional and awkward and he interprets it as mysteriousness, which is just fine by me. Perfect, really. And the inevitable catch? I am getting on a plane tomorrow and not returning for a long time. In his words - "what unfortunate fortune."

All of this has been so fleeting.