A Man Without a Country

A few days ago I moved into a new place of residence, sharing a two bedroom house with a friend.  After three and a half years at the same address, I didn't realize how much stuff I had accumulated or how misdirected I had become in chasing what really matters.  All I wanted was to work, attend school, and then to come home in order to pursue the many passions and hobbies I enjoyed.  The former residence provided a refuge, a place to isolate and remove myself from the public eye.  It is as if I was trying to live under the radar in a city I already felt like I didn't fit in.  Have you ever experienced the feeling of being unsettled, unable to plant roots and really unburden yourself in your own fortress of solitude?  Do you still lack that place you can make a retreat too and seek solace from the whirling storms of life?  Until one does so, including myself, we can never truly find rest for our mind and soul.  My feelings as such are only exasperated by the recent move.  Re-location has simply refreshed the feelings of displacement and pulled away the curtains on the fact I am an 'orphan' in the City of Fort Worth.  Maybe writers who share the same temperament as myself experience this exact way of life.  Are we people unto ourselves living on the fringe of what is considered mainstream society with its sanctioned and publicly ordained and reinforced values?  As much as I have difficulty understanding humanity at-large, why do I even give a damn about 'not fitting in'?  This journey of life is not over, and will not cease till I am fertilizer for tulips, but I yearn for that oasis, that shelter I may run to, in order to seek emotional, mental, and physical refreshment from the current of life rushing past me. 

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