expat

Well, at least this is what I told myself every day as I fell asleep with the fire still burning and the moon shining high up in the sky and my head spinning comforting from two bottles of wine, and I smiled with tears in my eyes because it was beautiful and so god damn sad and I did not know how to be one of those without the other.

I had chosen to leave, and live alone in a foreign country. And in fleeing thousands of miles across the Pacific, I chose myself, and a chance at a different future.

Am I making something worth while?I__ not sure.I write and I sing and I hear words from time to time about my life and choices making ways, into other lives, other hearts,but am I making something worth while?I__ not sure.There was a boy last night who I never spoke to because I was too drunk and still shy, but mostly lonely, and I couldn__ find anything lightly to say,so I simply walked awaybut still wondered what he did with his lifebecause he didn__ even speak to meor look at mebut still made me wonder who he wasand I walked away askingAm I making something worth while?I am not sure.I am a complicated person with a simple lifeand I am the reason for everything that ever happened to me.

I woke up early and took the first train to take me away from the city. The noise and all its people. I was alone on the train and had no idea where I was going, and that__ why I went there. Two hours later we arrived in a small town, one of those towns with one single coffee shop and where everyone knows each other__ name. I walked for a while until I found the water, the most peaceful place I know. There I sat and stayed the whole day, with nothing and everything on my mind, cleaning my head. Silence, I learned, is some times the most beautiful sound.

I am running and singing and when it__ raining I__ the only one left on the open street, smiling with my eyes fixed on the sky because it__ cleaning me. I__ the one on the other side of the party, hearing laughter and the emptying of bottles while I peacefully make my way to the river, a lonely road, following the smell of the ocean. I__ the one waking up at 4am to witness the sunrise, where the sky touches the sea, and I hold my elbows, grasping tight to whatever I__e made of myself.

Minding his own business had been his motto living in a strange foreign country with a world-recognized social issue of failing morals.