It seems like I’m constantly in this place of strangeness—between where I’ve always been and where I want to go. Between the distant, choked cries of the past and the yearning, tumbling future. But there is a space there. Right here. The space where my life happens. It’s the only place I’ll ever have, the only place it’s even possible to be.
It’s in these moments that I want to find my true life—my true happiness as it relates to the here, or God, or whatever. And sometimes, most times, I find it by accident. All it takes is one rupture in the universe, one errant cigarette tossed into the great dry grass of the unknown, and it all goes up in flames. All confusion, for the moment, burns away.