it's the same feeling, the same edgy distance from myself. i drive these streets, fill coffeeshop seats, sleep in my big striped bed and watch the horizon curdle with the next storm, but i know, i know - i don't belong here anymore. i have found no peace here, save that which i always have in the presence of friends.
perhaps it is only myself with which i am not at home.
perhaps it is only myself with which i am not at home.