Floating

It's hard not to feel like I'm floating in space right now.

Have you ever felt that way? Knocked around from person to person, rejected from every opportunity you thought would be fruitful?

If you've ever seriously wondered: "Where in the hell do I belong anyway?", then I'd say we have a lot in common.

In this season of my life, I've felt hope and optimism quickly turn into disappointment and fatigue. I've seen things I felt should belong to me go to others, I've been denied positions I'm more than capable of filling, I've seen doors slammed in my face.

At the beginning of 2020, I thought I'd be living in another city, with a strong and resilient group of friends, living out what I thought was my destiny. I didn't think I'd be where I am now.

Then strife and misunderstanding happened. Heartbreak happened. And then, the pandemic happened, and brought with it an immense amount of uncertainty and fear.

It's so crazy how none of my plans ended up coming to fruition last year. Maybe none of them will — I still don't know, and I'm almost scared to even make plans these days.

But here's what I do know: I'm still here. I'm still blessed. I still have an endless stream of poetry in my heart. And after the nightmare that I've endured over the last couple of years, there has to be a reason for that.

There's no definitive happy ending to this post. I'm still trying to find mine in real life. I'm still trying to find my reason.

But if nothing else, I can hold onto the fact that I am well overdue for some good news. So, I'll be expecting it. What's meant for me wouldn't dare pass me by.

Just some thoughts on this quiet Sunday night. Keep breathing.

-D.