When I think I have found home and family, I suddenly find myself losing grip and jumping off ship.

I am unsure. I think I'm lonely. But I'm afraid to find intimacy. Why let someone get in when it is inevitably going to hurt?

Unrest

Recently been coming home unknowing what to expect. A feeling of comfort, in the apartment's filth. I open the door to the smell of a cat litter box, empty beer cans on the table, piles of dishes. Our tooth brushes. It doesn't bother me. I kind of smile in it's filth. The flies sometimes get to me.
Never sure if Colin will be home or not. When he isn't I then have to wonder, what will be scattered on his bed? Is the dog home? Where is that cat that I have fallen in love with overandoverandoverandover. Make it to the doorway and see a bed.
Full of ripped up shoes? a book? magazine? bags of pasta? Art supplies?
Something about the apartment, in it's disarray, screams with friendliness. The worn out orange chair, that the Jasper has been digging her paws into. The many pots filled with soil and no plants that my clothing sits with. The large plastic tubes and the tallboy plastic 6 pack holders, the teal and yellow planks of wood. The shelf of plants that Jasper chews on. The green piece of cloth that hangs before the window. The fire place that doesn't work. Its mantle that is filled with toys, and what I like to think is a sonic the hedge hog hat.
It call seems so cozy. Even when I come to find a pot of soil has been tipped over for 2 days.

It's all going to be alright I predict. Just another step in the right direction.

This is the hand, the hand that takes. This is the hand, the hand that takes. This is the hand, the hand that takes. Here come the planes. They're American planes. Made in America. Smoking or non-smoking? And the voice said: Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night shall stay these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds. 'Cause when love is gone, there's always justice. And when justice is gone, there's always force. And when force is gone, there's always Mom.
-Laurie Anderson

thinking not such great thoughts. don't think I am doing all that much with my life. That perhaps I don't have the drive that everyone else really has.

thinking I am a waste of space. have these interests, but they are always much more half assed than everyone else who is interested in the same idea.

don't know what I'm getting at.

thinking I may be somewhat depressed right now.

don't know what the fuck I'm looking at.

I should move again. I think that's my problem.

I'm not sure.
I'm not sure
I'm not sure.

I want to say I'm passionate, but I'm not sure if I really am. I like to escape more than anything. I just wish that my method of escape could be through something instead of through movement.

I should drop it all.