To the Unsealed,

Since I was young my family had always moved a lot,
Close or far, just forward, forward, forward,
Always somewhere to go; never somewhere to be,

When I think of childhood, I think of spending summers with friends outside in the grassy fields of Germany,
Exploring cities and admiring buildings older my country, just enjoying the sun for the time it was out,
For the longest time I projected images of the world in my head onto others,
As if I had to force things through the filter of my eyes for them to make sense,
Many experiences brought me into sentience in a way I’ve seen others take for granted,
And I question if I trust myself to say “I know”.

The most recent time my family moved I didn’t follow. For a variety of reasons I decided it was best that I stay, so I planted my feet in Maryland.

As an adult I occasionally reconnect with acquaintances from high school,
I remember listening to their conversations and feeling envious of the way they talk,
The way they are with each other,
All so familiar- to what I had in Germany,

Envy begat curiosity, so I asked how their friendships started. They replied almost confused that I’d even ask that, stating that they’ve “always known each other.” Their parents are friends.
Their home is a family home.

My amorphous feelings took shape in the articulation of my thoughts,
I was able to connect and recognize how little i knew about my own experiences.
I wish I had lifelong friends,
I wish I had a family house,
I wish I had generations of collective experience to fill the spiritual void in my being,
I wish I could’ve known someone my whole life.

I saw it. I understood it. I couldn’t empathize,
All I could do was laugh at the dramatic irony, the things people will take away from life when they don’t share their thoughts with others.

They thought the most interesting about me was that I’ve not spent my life in one place. They expressed their anxieties about living up to their family’s expectations, and being responsible for maintaining the family house well enough to pass it on. They felt suffocated by the looming presence of their families, always fearing that they would “become” their parents.

What I found funny was being told that they kept inviting me to hangout with them because they enjoy the process of getting to know people, and think it’s sometimes more fun than just speaking to someone you already know.

Moving to where I currently am has made my life better because it’s made me more me. Another chapter in the book of my life. I can’t always empathize with other people’s experiences, nor can they with mine, but the ability to share our differing experiences makes you grateful for everything word in your story. Connecting with other people makes life better. Bittersweet and honest.

Ideas of beauty and vision of self to come,
Time the chisel that shapes the memory,
Like water raging callously against the river bank.

Looking at a picture of George Washington in a history book and seeing faceless distortion,
Looking up at billboards and watching the the corrupt facsimile of mocking frown where a smile should be,
Listening to songs of those you’ve outlived telling you they’ll live forever,
Looking into the still image in the mirror in search of clairvoyance,
Discovering the ugly, cruel, formless, homunculus reaches for my face as i recoil aghast,
Feeding tomorrow’s insecurities,
I’m older now than you’ll ever be,
The everlasting present,

One day you’ll just wake up,
Without reason, without effort, without conscious, without yourself.
Nature’s hand turns the page,
She comforts you as you take your first breath,
To take care of you now is to take care of her in the future,
The everlasting present,

Despite having nothing to my name but my name,
All I can do is say thank you to today for promising me tomorrow.