My life packed in boxes
reminds me how easily
I can be picked up, stored, forgotten;
How simple it is to disappear,
run away, or
even be someone completely different
with all the **** hidden
in some room.
When I arrive at my new destination,
I unpack.
Sifting through all the brown squares
and trash bags
for everything I want to keep in my new home, a symbol of the things I want to keep
for my new life.
I look around
after hours of intense concentration
and debate
on how keeping an extra set of Tupperware
will clutter my life
only for it to settle in
that I am
alone.
It's invigorating.
My home. My mess. My life.
I was owning this moment,
letting my ego relish in the small 700sqft space.
I am
alone
breathing in and enjoying the freedom
of being exactly who I am
right now.
Being alone never felt less lonely.
