Awakening to an unusual bed
A distinguishing scent to the unfamiliar sheets,
specifically chosen to coordinate with the four walls
surrounding me in this particular ephemeral existence.
Living as a foreigner, fending for survival.
Through immersion quickly discovering
each culture comprising a certain complexity.
So easily lost in the distended dystopia.
Upon apprehension of the convolution
to be blinded by overexposure.
Uprooted and wilting fast
Overwhelmed by the unknown.
In transit, triggering thoughts
captivated in emotional locomotion.
Each experience posing a new question
Why am I here?
How did I get here?
I believed in a specific God then,
he rarely returned any answers.
Finally finding contentment in the confusion.
Focusing on the finite.
Learning to smile at the small simplicities.
If only to turn the wheel once more;
If only to ascertain how little I understand.
Mostly in a state of existential crisis, wrapped up in my own mind and in the thoughts that weigh heavy through cyclical depression. Thoughts consisting of anxiety and unhappiness about school, society, humanity, the world, the waste, the ignorance, and my own inner conflicts of knowledge and memory cause constant yearning to exist in a more positive and productive state. My writing through this time has reflected the tendencies I have to think too much, my resolution being through doing art and through connecting with nature. My writing process is usually different every time. Sometimes by compiling small phrases I’ve jotted down in my notes, other times by writing stream of consciousness, and others are more about what word sounds intrigue me. I have found that my writing reads best when I utilize all of these tactics together.