I'm sitting here, unable to sleep.  This is not uncommon for me. I'm doomed to be a nightowl.  But tonight, like many other nights, I feel lost.  I have no roots, no connections.  I haven't had a friend...a real friend that I can talk to or hug or hang out with...since I left Florida in 1998.  My "home" just isn't my home anymore.  I haven't set foot in the town I spent the longest period of time in since I said goodbye all those years ago.  But in truth?  That's not really my home either.  It was just the last place where my dad pastored a church way back when.  And we stayed, because there were no other churches to move to.  I've lived the life of a nomad, and all I have are memories of places and people, and a disconnected feeling from the world. 

I love my husband, and he is the best friend I've ever had.  But I miss friendship.  Real friendship, with real people.  I miss being able to go out without having a panic attack.  I miss having someplace TO go.  But I don't.  And I feel lost. Alone.  Sad.

I usually don't think about these things.  Maybe they don't occur to me, or maybe I don't allow myself to think about them.  I'm not sure which is the case.  And I don't sit around feeling sorry for myself.  That's the last thing on Earth I'd want to do.  Yes, I've lived a strange, difficult life...but who hasn't?  My journey is no worse than anyone elses...it's just mine.  And right now, as I reflect on it...it's almost hard to breathe.  My lonliness, my fear....it wraps around me like a scratchy blanket that I can't shrug off.

I'm sorry about the whining.  It's not like me....I'm not a whiner.  I'm just throwing my pain out there into space, hoping that I'll feel better when I'm done. 

I do have a lot to be thankful for, and God knows that I am.   But there are moments when I wish that I had something just a little more.

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