I sit here with my laptop and I don’t know what to write. I can feel a burning inside of me. It screams and claws to get out. I feel this urgency to write. There are a million thoughts on my mind. They dance around my head – almost as if to taunt me. But I cannot find the words to release them. I know that the only way for me to share any of my thoughts is just for me to begin typing.
My life is neatly packed away into a few bags. I carry them with me everywhere, each time I move – which averages to about every two months or so. I’m always on the go. The nomadic lifestyle has become my niche. My friends don’t call me “stray Kat” for nothing. The adventure of it all was fun at first. Exciting, if you will. However, as with most things in life, the novelty wore off. I wanted to leave for work in the morning and actually know where I’d be sleeping that night. I wanted to have more space to live than just a corner in a friend’s bedroom. I didn’t want the only source of control in my life to be my neatly folded clothes.
I wanted to feel like a human being with a purpose again.
Life has been passing me by. I look back at who I was just one year ago and I see very little difference. I’m no better off than I was. Perhaps I’m no worse either. I’m just… here. I’m existing. But it doesn’t feel like enough. Spending the past year of my life as a drifter has left me physically and emotionally exhausted. I feel like a ghost sneaking into people’s lives, and then floating right on out again.
I’ve met some of the most amazing people that I have ever known in this past year. These relationships have been incredible. This past year hasn’t been entirely bad – there’s definitely a long list of memories I’m very fond of. But I can’t help but wonder what my role is. Where is my place? If I drifted into these people’s lives just like that, what’s to keep me in their lives? Do they see me in the same way I see them? I often wonder how much I matter to others. I wonder if they can see into my drifter spirit and if that makes them feel as though perhaps I might only be temporary – replaceable.
I lie awake tonight asking myself these questions. I ask what my role is. I ponder what it is to have some semblance of stability. I consider that maybe the apathy that has accompanied me during this year is here to stay. Perhaps I’ve become comfortable with being an average person. I’ve stopped climbing.
Or maybe, just maybe, it is these thoughts that will push me to work harder – to remember the beauty in the struggle.