"All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware" -Martin Buber

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Where?

Where is the sadness and heartache? Where the hell is my confusion and fear? Where is my desire and longing? Where is my homesickness? I'm confused. Why is it that waiting a year or more to see the people I love doesn't seem that bad?

I thought this whole living abroad thing was supposed to be some kind of thriller, but so far I feel like it is just my life. Nowadays I can listen to a whole Ryan Adams album without crying. When did I become a whole person, with a full beating heart? Will she stick around? I sure hope so.

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