My ghosts come out when I least expect them. When I'm settled in my choices, convinced of their rightness, I awake from a restless night and find I'm wrong about everything.
Trust your gut, people say. Trust your instincts. It seems at times my gut and my instincts are two separate entities, wrestling out something or other. (I just wish they'd let me get some sleep.)
I dream of moving across the world, the country, landing on a mountaintop. What a gorgeous vista!
My gut (or is it my instinct?) has different plans for me. I sit at my laptop, trying to make sense of why I'm exactly where I was when I began my flight from the constraints of sameness.
Safety + Comfort + Familiarity. Perhaps that is the equation taking me home. (Wherever that will be.)
Followers
