The Desk.

I'm spending a few days at Aaron's place before we head up to Winston for break. I enjoy it well enough, this place is a much my home as any other. What is that, a home? I've only been living in the dorm for a few months, but I feel more at home there than in that house where I lived for seventeen years. That place is dead now, a ghostly shell of what used to be a lively family abode. It's too quiet there now, the fish died so the tank cleaner's not running, making that god-awful comforting grind. I would listen to music to put me to sleep but I think that's what's been making my dreams wierd lately. I don't even know what happens there anymore. I can't even sleep in my own bed, eat at my own table aymore. I need to be where I have a rhythm. Like in the woods. Out there things are familiar, even in a place you've never been. Out there it doesn't matter from days or weeks or politics or classes; out there you're free. But not so free you don't know what to do. I need that familiarity, that routine, waking up in the morning and knowing inside and out what I need to do and how to do it. It's the routine that keeps us sane, and it's the routine that drives us crazy, you've just got to pick yours. That's my problem here is that I don't know this life. You all know I don't quite fit in with everything, but you should see me out there. Out there I'm part of the land, out there look like I ought to be there like I'll never look like I ought to be in a city here with you. I've been a lot of places and met a lot of people, and the more of the world I see, the more I realize the only place I'll ever belong.