I sat in class today with a sense of forced discipline; it was all I could do--avoid bolting. Perhaps it's overactive adrenals (I miss adrenaline), but if "butterflies" were real, they might have carried me away. I tried, hard, to liken the feeling to something tangible, understandable, as I walked home, then, as I uttered, "It's as if everything inside of me is trying to escape", the (I promise, it was comedic) mental picture of trying not to trip over my own entrails surfaced. It was then that I realized, again, that again, my heart yearns for that place of freedom, that place of purpose. Where that purpose is, no path exist. And so I'm caging my own heart from flying, for now, so it seems, until the desire within this heart has acquired the discipline to fly; effectively. It goes against logic, to cage a bird. But that cage is a set of courses (TIME) to get to the ones I actually need, the real traction, to acquire the auxiliary training desired to fully pursue my deepest passion. To love, limitlessly, readily, and with a set of skills often not available in parts of the world I've yet only dreamt of being. And there is love love; full, and ready, and questioning... could that man be the phantom that fills my dreams, from my heart; he breathes! I want to know him. I must cage it, to walk, without tripping... unless mine is a welcome leap.
Today's quiet crisis,