I am able to breathe!
Really breathe.
I live in this little cottage on the corner of a very quite street in a very small town called Alva in the Mid West.
I wake up when my body feels ready, and go to sleep when it feels tired. I eat when my stomach asks for food. I am not following any schedule.
Been a while since I've been kissed, but I am not exactly clamoring for a new love or to find a companion to fill the 'normally' expected empty space.
I do not find the emptiness.
I feel healthy - mind, body, AND soul.
My Mondays and Sundays all seem the same.
I take walks, drinking in the aura of what this space has to offer - little cottages with adorable little signs and gardens, empty stretches of streets which make you feel like you are in a movie set or something, great big trees which paint shadows whenever the sun obliges, or just rustle around when it is windy.
My life right now revolves around books from the library, a studio where I go and paint or draw when I feel like, the little market down the street, and a couple of great friends with whom I share conversations and long drives, art talks and movie nights, and a few performances whenever and wherever I am asked to.
I am not planning fervently about my future, though my mind is giving me hints of some great ideas for life which I know will mature soon. I am not exactly earning as much as I had thought and desired, but no qualms. It will flow in soon, I know.
I am watching small town parades which make me relive my childhood images crafted by the Nancy Drew books, high school Cinderella pageants, some crazy movies, and possibly some rodeo games in the near future.
I do not have a new sim and there is no net connection except at the library.
I am slowly but persistently learning French.
Sometimes, when I walk back to my little cottage and snuggle in for the night, I hear footsteps on the empty floor above in the dead stillness. (And I swear someone stroked my head a couple of mornings ago, until I started whimpering in my sleep).
Is it the quite? Is it the solitude? Is it another dimension?
I am not on a holiday, I am not in a dream, and it definitely does not feel like a far away illusion. It is very much real, because I can feel my own breath. My soul is on a great vacation, just breathing. And breathing.
Back home, people would laugh at this 'life'. No job? No marriage or romance? No schedule? What exactly do you do ? Or who exactly are you ?
I don't need definitions for myself. I don't need definitions for my life. I don't need anyone to tell me what my life should be like.
I don't need to be 'normal' by your standards.
I need joy, MY joy, and I shall define it however I want to.
But I really do fear going back home, and that, to me, is the only thing that is not seeming normal right now.
Really breathe.
I live in this little cottage on the corner of a very quite street in a very small town called Alva in the Mid West.
I wake up when my body feels ready, and go to sleep when it feels tired. I eat when my stomach asks for food. I am not following any schedule.
Been a while since I've been kissed, but I am not exactly clamoring for a new love or to find a companion to fill the 'normally' expected empty space.
I do not find the emptiness.
I feel healthy - mind, body, AND soul.
My Mondays and Sundays all seem the same.
I take walks, drinking in the aura of what this space has to offer - little cottages with adorable little signs and gardens, empty stretches of streets which make you feel like you are in a movie set or something, great big trees which paint shadows whenever the sun obliges, or just rustle around when it is windy.
My life right now revolves around books from the library, a studio where I go and paint or draw when I feel like, the little market down the street, and a couple of great friends with whom I share conversations and long drives, art talks and movie nights, and a few performances whenever and wherever I am asked to.
I am not planning fervently about my future, though my mind is giving me hints of some great ideas for life which I know will mature soon. I am not exactly earning as much as I had thought and desired, but no qualms. It will flow in soon, I know.
I am watching small town parades which make me relive my childhood images crafted by the Nancy Drew books, high school Cinderella pageants, some crazy movies, and possibly some rodeo games in the near future.
I do not have a new sim and there is no net connection except at the library.
I am slowly but persistently learning French.
Sometimes, when I walk back to my little cottage and snuggle in for the night, I hear footsteps on the empty floor above in the dead stillness. (And I swear someone stroked my head a couple of mornings ago, until I started whimpering in my sleep).
Is it the quite? Is it the solitude? Is it another dimension?
I am not on a holiday, I am not in a dream, and it definitely does not feel like a far away illusion. It is very much real, because I can feel my own breath. My soul is on a great vacation, just breathing. And breathing.
Back home, people would laugh at this 'life'. No job? No marriage or romance? No schedule? What exactly do you do ? Or who exactly are you ?
I don't need definitions for myself. I don't need definitions for my life. I don't need anyone to tell me what my life should be like.
I don't need to be 'normal' by your standards.
I need joy, MY joy, and I shall define it however I want to.
But I really do fear going back home, and that, to me, is the only thing that is not seeming normal right now.
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