NOW you tell me the story of how I grew to be.

I’ve always found the idea of “finding oneself” a bit absurd. Enjoyed the simple joy that I get from staring into nothing. Ran from reality and myself, and created a new, better, nonfictional version of my reality. Until somehow my ideas of things I liked in others became blatantly obvious qualities that I could find in myself. Always liked others and respected. Scared to death of the future. Of what might come and who might come and how do I deal with it all?

I need no one. I need to know that from someone I have come. My spirit isn’t evolved. It’s evolving into what it was. Returning. Changing finding. Not in love. Not in need. Being alone isn’t bad at all is it? Being right here is the most important place I’ve ever found myself. This apartment. Evolution- weird me out. Scare me. Share stories and love. Share laughter. Comfortable with you. Never thought I’d never want to leave. Want to eat up the fall leaves and spit them out as music. Talk to you. Feel at home in the place where home felt foreign and far and distant. Confusion. How did it happen? 

I don’t know. I don’t know really. But I can’t sleep because I can’t stop thinking and questioning and wondering and hoping and doubting. Mostly doubting. Decision making skills are the skills of the Gods and I’m not that. Clearly.

So. I just need to know. What is the right answer. One right one. PLEASE. Just one. Running nose where are you going let me come.

Because I’ve found myself. And I don’t want to leave. Because digging through the lost and found makes your hands smell smelly and takes time. 

So let’s do this all over again.