Sometimes it feels as though I have thought too much and done too little, and in thinking so much I buried in myself solitude, desperation and sadness. I'm alone and lost and I wish I could go back home, but I don't know where home is. Nothing hurts more than the feeling of not belonging, of not having a place to go back to... meaningless freedom. Real freedom might be having a place to call home.
I've always felt like I've been living in hotel room, like I'm always ready to leave... and the doors are always locked to whatever and whomever wants to come in. I've left myself alone.
I've always felt like I've been living in hotel room, like I'm always ready to leave... and the doors are always locked to whatever and whomever wants to come in. I've left myself alone.
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