eight: superglued soles

I locked myself in a luxury apartment in Prague. I paid for the third and fourth nights of sleep in one year of traveling. I basically paid to lay in an incredibly marbled bathtub filled with hot water, bottle of wine in hand, box of chocolates not too far from reach. I stared the steam down and contemplated the state of my life. My life is fairly simple which leads me to believe that I should be hard on myself for all of the complaining and circular problem solving I do. I didn´t come to any grand conclusions during that weekend but some days later I realized that I have lost a certain textile side of me that used to come more naturally than most things. My bag was always stashed with the first aid kit of life. Colors, little things to make things of simplicity more interesting. Lists poured out on found scraps of paper. Ideas, and quotes, and reminders were overflowing out of all my pockets. A stitch of colored thread made its way into the mesh of most of my clothing. I wanted my fingerprint to be found on most things that graced my presence in the world. I found myself lying in the bathtub wondering if I could possibly leave the apartment as though not even a ghost had been residing there. Tip-toeing around, wiping all surfaces clean, remaining a sly being in my own space (however rented and temporary that space may be). My whole life I felt the pressure of being emotionally irrational, untamable, wild, dramatic...... and now I find myself equally owning up to the other extreme. I get lost in the fabrications of how I choose to pass my days. I would rather pace a room, force myself to do sit-ups, see how long I can resist the bar of chocolate than go out to socialize in the scheme of small town affairs. On some days I unknowingly create myself to be a person that I do not particularly like. A person that longs for something more but refuses to walk out the door in the first place.

We all have our times and I think that is what I learned in the basin of the bathtub. We can materialize many things with our lives. We can make many things possible. When I find myself doing nothing that I always hoped I would be doing. When I do not find small surprises at the bottom of my bag but only perfectly arranged papers, I get depressed that I may be becoming someone I do not want to be. I am reaching a point of re-evaluation. I am not afraid that I may be eternally bound by how I am thinking in these time but I am also ready to shed light on some of my loftier hopes for my life. I miss feeling bound to something other than my own expectations of myself. I don't know if that means I miss deadlines in school or a relationship that reaches beyond no expectations at all.

I am excited to be near family and loved ones. Although the prospect of remaining unknown is more than likely, family has expectations of its members. History and friends bring pain and pleasure that you cannot avoid. I am fleeing towards the arms of my mother like I did the first time the dark took hold of me. There is no shame in taking comfort, in seeking shelter from my own storm. I will one day miss the upset waters and ever moving atmosphere of my disheveled life and step back into it.