You left the house

I often wonder about walks.

I have the scenario sometimes do to a stressful and unatural time. You always think in the back of your deepest reaches of your mind...your dark places you will be okay at your home.

So what the fuck is  a home? I find it to be a place of comfort. Just like a piece of toast with a comfortable amount of grape or strawberry jam. I am just wondering because foundationally I am on sand right now.

I don't really have a bed that works. I am not bitching. jUst really knowing ya'll what goes on. My parents dropped the hammers to end all hammers. They want me and my bro gone by the end of October.

IT is really hard. I grew up in this house. And now when I get really stressed and don't understand shit...I have a horrible tendency to cower away and leave the front door. Leave the house and venture on to a walk that let's me know how life is going. And right now my walks have increased. I never use to walk this much.

Given my circumstance which is not that big a deal...I walk a fuck ton. I walk to figure out my girl situation...to be more spirtual with god. To try to figure out what the fuck the universe is pointing me towards. I am not a crash course. Far from that shit...far fucking from it....I am just as great as analogy I can use. A boat with no direction.

I have a degree. I am getting booted out of my house. My parent's call it moving but it's fucking getting hella sugar coated. Moving, leaving all I know is that eventually it will be the last time I walk through my front door.

And realistically, to me, it is fucking sad. So many memories will be swept up during the move. Sure I'll remember them but I won't remember the way they're crafted. The way I fell out of the loft onto a chair, because I am clumsy. My socks were the high kind and I slipped off a ladder. The way I parachuted with our older dog Chaco. Even though, that's not wise jumping onto a bed from a loft. And so many other cool and wonderfull memories.

You left the house they'll say. I'll say yeah I had to grow up and life and the universe pushed me there. It pushed me to experience more than my own backyard, the sights and beautiful smells. The paranormal room that I dare not enter in the night. The bed that doesn't work so well. It squeaks when I even hint at motion. The amazing gaming room T and I built up. We spent our money on consoles when we were younger. The amazing grandeur of the house. The gazeboo which hosted some of the best gatherings and suarees not to mention cool-ass parties.

The neighbors that use to live here. The smell of home. The smell of saftey. The essence of knowing that home was here.

I sit on sand now and much uncertainty. Well the wind keeps blowing. So here's to hoping the next place I live gives me some rumination of comfort.

You left the house. They'll say. Yeah, I had to clear my mind. Of cobwebs, cabobbles, craziness, sadness, depressive feelings, loniless, torturous comments, life-stuff, girl stuff, house stuff, parents, siblings, candor, overwhelming inept souls.

Yeah I did....so how are you? Do you still live at your parent's place they'll say. No, those memories are kept there. There in that old home.