Something Mending -- VOL 1

19

There's no reason to stay, were her last words as she left.

Love is hard for us, people like me, because our soul is not here, it is far away.
They say nostalgia is longing for the past, what do we call longing for the future -- hope?
I don't belong here, I never did, I don't know where I belong because the concept of home is subjective.
All I know is, I don't belong here.

For a long time, they've been a girl in my dreams, who sounds like something different.
She feels like something new -- that girl has a face like mine.
Bukowski wrote, when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want, what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?
I wonder, how does freedom taste, to be free, to belong to no one but yourself?

I long for that, for everything it is -- to fleet, to drift, to stray amongst lives and leave as fast as you arrived.
To have everything you need in you, to fall in love today and leave tomorrow.
To touch lives, but never stay.
Like the wind, it was there, it was felt, but it's free, can't be held, but felt.

It is beautiful to wander.
I want to leave and never come back, never stay in a place for too long.
I want to be free, to have a home in myself.
How beautiful it must be.