So much is out of my control.
I'm getting the chance to face myself more than I've ever had to before.
Out of this aloneness comes frustration and anxiety.
Out of the frustration come the many attempts at affecting change.
There are colorful dreams.
Pages of writing.
Beginning's of songs.
I'm devouring books.
Somehow, within all this movement there is a kind of peace.
Under the fear of the unknown, the fear of not getting work soon enough, the fear of having to lose all I've worked so hard to create, this hope of a new life, there is a peace. Through muscle and sweat and tears and hours on the road and hours of planning, selling things, giving things away, all the time spent on craigslist, all the time spent on the phone, all the work, all the goodbyes, all the miles... Well. I'm just here. This is all.
Somehow, I think it's OK. I have to let go and I hate to admit it but,
I have no idea what's coming next.