A testament to my life. Living out of a suitcase, moving from couch to couch, guest room to guest room. It feels comfortable, to be so uncomfortable. To have no place to call my own. To be that gypsy nomad that feels so taboo in today’s society. That freeing irresponsibility that comes with homelessness. So few things. So little need for more.
Were I not diseased I would do it more. I would pass up jobs and render myself free from doubts. I would live to breath the freedom of having nothing to hold me in place. I would know the feeling of listless wandering. That beautiful apathetic freedom, not knowing where I am going, and not caring when I get there…or perhaps if I ever get anywhere.