Since the day I was able to comprehend "the future," I've had a plan: Go to kindergarten. Go to first grade. Play softball. Enjoy the summer. Go to fifth grade. Try homeschooling. Go back to public school. Play more sports. Take driver's ed. Get my license. Go to high school and play lacrosse. Move with my family 2,000 miles south. Move back north. Apply to college. Go to college. Work. Date. Graduate from college ---
I'm out of ideas. I have no plans. And what might seem like freedom, a opportunity for liberation and exploration, has turned out to be suffocation. I don't know what I'm doing. I say I'm working toward grad school, and that brings temporary solace. But then I realize that is only a plan to fill in the empty space. Because I have no plans. If I sit too long by myself, I have anxiety attacks. I used to enjoy solitude, allowing my thoughts to play themselves out and blossom into ideas for art and writing. Now I fear my thoughts. They mimic my life: unstructured, unfocused, unbridled.
What's worse is that I don't feel like I belong anywhere. I left Utah because I was tired of the culture. I came to Texas, but there is something nagging at me, telling me this isn't quite right either.
With no sense of the future and no place to be in the present, I wonder where I can go. I have no refuge, no home, no place to belong. My mind wanders into the abyss and I let it. Maybe that is where I will find my future, my home, myself.
Thomas drove down to Texas with me. It was a good trip, full of Diet Coke, C.S. Lewis, bad truck drivers and even worse gas stations.
Life, despite all i wrote at the beginning, is still good.