As if this time would be any different. I saw Disappointment lingering, loitering even, holding an invitation unsolicited. And together, we waited on you. Like we always do. Waiting. For the impossible. Prepared for the inevitable, yet ready for the unexpected. But just like always, you were missing inaction. Only this time Disappointment did not stay the night, because there was no room. Just as there is no longer any room left for you. And I will wait for you no more.
These conditions-both self-made and by chance-these conditions make me question my journey’s purpose. What meanings can I derive from this seemingly never-ending state of fluctuation? How long must my heels feel the heat of hell, and my ears hear the songs of heaven? What, I ask, is the Rite of Passage I must encounter before I find solid footing? When will I find my place, and where will it be? This state of transition is so uncertain. I long to simply belong.