The last few days I've felt like a ghost in my own home, a ghost that although present, is only there in body, not spirit. I want out. As much as I don't want to burn up the next few days as quickly as possible, I also want to do the opposite. There's something depressing about seeing your life in boxes, and yet, I want to linger and enjoy my last week in the city because it could be a while/for good. We never want to miss anything really, do we? And yet still, there lies a desire to move on because the limbo of laying in wait drains me and makes me feel directionless. Despite all of this I feel light and easy and ready to move on. I know I will miss people and maybe even some places. My new beginning will arrive after some darkness, but like all times of night, morning awaits again.
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