I woke up in a car

I've never been so lost,
I've never felt so much at home.

Life is turmoil, and that's the way I want it. I'm dripping sweat and overworked and exhausted, and I've never felt so alive. I really don't know why I don't go running more often. Who needs Prozac when you can run?

The thing is, I'm at a very interesting point in my life. Something big is in the works. I can feel it. I'm starting to go down a new road, like Frost, and once I commit to it there is no going back. I should be thrilled. And I suppose on an intellectual level, I am. But this fucking medication has me dulled inside and blurred around the edges, until I'm just content to watch it all happen to me. I should be more active in this. I have the two roads and I'm eager to walk down one, but I can't pick up my feet.

The only problem is, if I stop taking the meds, the panic attacks come back. And I hate them.

I feel fine now. I feel ready to do this thing, take this path, commit to this road. I'm excited about it. But let's face it...I'm not going to have two hours every day to devote to running and crunches and rock walls. I'm lucky if I have twenty minutes every day to just veg out.

I want to capture this, bottle it up and keep it. So I have something else to think about in those wee hours when I lie awake, staring at the sloped ceiling, listening to him breathing next to me and the drunken bar-crawlers outside my window. So the edges don't get so blurred and I'm able to care as much as I want. It's like my brain is cut off from my heart, and I want to fix that. Forever, not just for a moment.

I want more of moments like last night, when I can know that I'm the luckiest girl on earth, when I can be truly and completely happy. I want more of that assuredness, and maybe it's a bit much to ask, but when have I ever felt like I didn't deserve everything?

I moved into my new apartment last week. It's mine; not a sublease, I'm not a house guest. Mine. My home. Even in this turmoil, even though I'm so lost, I know I'm home. And to be honest, it has less to do with a physical address than I ever imagined.