I'm Wasted And I Can't Find My Way Home

It shouldn't bother me, but it does.


Should I feel like I have no home?
"Home is where the heart is."
But the place which holds my heart is being occupied by somebody else.
I am not welcome in that place.
Where I reside holds a deadline.
Where my parents reside is a lifestyle unrecognizable.

My hometown holds meaning in my past,
But the ghosts of successful people seem to reverberate through the mountains,
Their small lives screaming like sonar across water.
It offers no new knowledge, only bad crowds and bad decisions.

Over the mountains I feel stimulated, but uncomfortable.
I am growing, but I lack that total familiarity that can melt me into restful sleep.
I am happy, but I am not safe.

Perhaps home is an unattainable place.
My standards are too high,
My definition is flawed.

Perhaps traveling is where comfort comes from.
A stationary life is bringing me down.
My itch to leave is becoming unmanageable.


"I met a girl who kept tattoos for homes that she had loved,
If I were her I'd paint my body 'til all my skin was gone."
--Something Corporate, "I Woke Up In A Car"

Where will I wake up tomorrow?
In a bed? My bed?
A house? My house?
A town? My town?

Home?

I know it shouldn't bother me, but it does.