I am looking for home. It is no great mystery that I am different. That I don’t much fit in most places. I know this. This has not past me by. I also know that I am feeling alone. it feels like I am the only one of me in the world sometimes. But I have to keep telling myself that this is an arrogant way to think. It’s obvious that, perhaps, I am unique or rare, but it is pompous of me to think I am the only one of me... ever. There has to be someone out there like me. Some place where I fit. If nothing else it gives me hope. The hope that I am not alone in the world. That there is someone else out there that thinks and feels the same way I do. That person. That other will be home.

Some people have questioned my “tendencies” to be secretive. That I keep myself bottled up. But I look at it like this. I could go around and just spill everything to someone. Give them my weaknesses and my fears my loves and joys. But as far as that goes it seems everybody in my life are just passing through. None of them are going to stay. I am none of their final destinations. I am just a tool, a stepping stone until they find their home. I believe that, like the rest of me, my secrets belong to my home.

I don’t know. I will write more on this later.