If home is where the heart is, I must lack a heart. In 5 weeks exactly I have been in Albany for a year. I have all ready missed my run, as it is always at same time, clockwork. I have not disappeared; the large sum of money I am spending to make my migraines go away is what has kept me here. There is a part of me that cries from under my skin for the truth of life I find when I run, when I wonder. How do you define your self, how do you know you are strong, how do you know anything at all. So long I have searched for the answers to these questions, and so many others. Is there a god, am I loved, does life have meaning… All the many questions of my mind and of general existence will never be answered, but what little truth I have known I have known in the moments of my run. I have seen the worse and the best of life, I live in a quarter million dollar house, I do not need for anything, there is nothing here in this house to make it my home however. I was born in San Diego California, which is not my home I do not remember it I did not even live there a year. I have lived in Texas, Washington state, Organ, California, BC, Louisiana, West Virginia, Hawaii, New York, and probably other places which I am forgetting to list, and in all of them I have not a home. I have felt home in only a few moments of my life... I have felt real and alive only in moments that could break a person. Have you almost died before? The air smells so sweet right after you almost die; you suck it into your lungs holding on to it never wanting to be parted from it, never threatened in never smelling it again. Have you ever been hungry? Not hungry because you were to lazy to make food, not hungry because you don’t get paid for 3 more days and all you have left is peanut butter… the kind of hungry I mean it is the hunger you feel when you have no home, when you are someplace strange to you and you must rely solely upon the kindness of strangers, it is in this hunger you under stand how beautiful the world is, and after food will always taste better. its been a year and still every time I eat I want to cry because I know how lucky I am to have food to eat. Have you known fear? Real pure fear, fear for your very existence and kept going? I have, and it is why I have never tried to kill my self. I know, I know that there is nothing in this world that can stop me; I know I can survive because I always have. That knowledge is more of a comfort that any god, lover or friend I have ever had. Why, why do I run, because I have no choice. Because, I do not deny my heart, because somewhere I must have a home.. Because no drug, illegal or otherwise will ever make me feel as alive as I feel when I find freedom in my wanderlust.
