Goodbye to all that.

I've been thinking a lot lately about saying goodbye to this pile of concrete, this decaying dream, this fragile balance.

I've always been a traveler. I don't think I was born to do much else but roam - this is not to say I can't commit, just that I can commit again and again and again. I can start a job, and end it. And start a new one.

I'm not sure a career is for me. It feels paralyzing, almost as paralyzing as living here has become. It's been ten years since I said goodbye to a sky filled with stars and woods filled with bitterness.

But I can do better than where I am. I achieved a goal only to realize that I have bigger ones. There is no shame in leaving, there is no shame in traveling. This place will always be here. I can always come back to it. It's nearly thirty years of living between the bindings of one book.

It would be nice to write a new book. One of these days.

There isn't a day that goes by where I don't wonder what will happen to this foreign kidney living inside me. When will it fail, how long do I have to make the most of the life it has given me before sinking into the circus of possible dialysis? How will I find another kidney for transplant and how will I go through that again at an older age? It sucks to not know how long I have with this gift, like at any second it could be gone. I try not to think about it but it always sneaks into my thoughts.