This is where the problem lies; knowing the end. It is saddening to be aware of how the ending will be. It shatters us to the core knowing there is a finish line, knowing this is all merely the high. That's the problem when you've already died and revived yourself; you're never fully alive again. It isn't the same as the first time, that wound has left a scar and this scar is a reminder that the finish line is what you deem it. I feel like I've acquired the taste of disappointment and maybe that's why I can't adjust myself to this new flavor, a mixture of chance, hope, and love; a tang so heavenly. I attempted and I continue to attempt building a home in a land to which I don't belong. There is still that voice that asks, how can I mold it into an asylum when it is not mine? How can I stay, reside in a place that is overcrowded? How did I lead myself here? But I silence that voice because I am so overwhelmed by the thought of what might be. The...
On a voyage to find myself under the showers of air raids