January 5th, 2011. 4:00 PM EST
I have tied my keys to myself in an effort to tie myself down.
This morning I woke up at 10:10. I remember because as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling trying to get back to sleep, trying to fight the light in my window, I rolled over to find two red eyes staring out of my alarm clock, out and up from the piles of paper and layers of clothing- layers of insecurity that also keep the cold out.
I’ve come to a point in my life where it’s hard to stay in one place for any length of time. I have tasted homelessness and the tang of transience is addictive; I have not the appreciation nor the want for the space I’ve fought to get over the past year.
I have a home now. I have a home now, I tell myself; but it isn’t one I can accept. It isn’t one I can curl up into, hibernate in. I can’t even get comfortable, I have to leave after a few hours of solitude.
I guess I’ll just have to give myself up to this wanderlust, the foul temptress that caresses the edges of my thoughts daily, hourly, minutely.
My keys are tied to the inside of my jacket- so I won’t forget. So I can’t run away.