03
Mar
HOME
Today, I slept in my car like a homeless person. The thought made me wonder, do homeless people have cars, for the most part? Are all homeless people possession-less, or is it a deeper issue? Are they lost wanderers, with no safe place for refuge? Is it the life of the perpetual nomad that causes the issue, the unrest?
Maybe homeless isn’t the word I should have used for my situation. Maybe I should have said, “Today, I slept in my car like a person with no home.” It’s much prettier and describes the real issue much better. Yes I have a home. No I don’t feel like I’m there.
Everyone thinks I’ve changed my ways to be a thrilling optimist, bright eyed with the promises of love. Well I do feel bright eyed,—being in love is such a wonderful, thrilling mystery—but I can still muster up a melancholy rambling or two every now and then.
I live in this city with these people who I assume are generally good and who as a whole are interesting to leave near, but they are not my home. They pass by me on the street, and there is no exchange of recognition between us. My home is still in Mississippi, not that I’m singing Mississippi My Home, just yet. Yes, I will always plant my roots there, a firm heritage to hold me up and all, but that’s not exactly what I meant. My home still lives in Mississippi; he hasn’t joined me yet in Nashville. I am here so far away, and I know my home, my heart, will follow but not quite yet. The miles separating me from home are wearing on me, and I wait in anticipation to see his darling face again.
So for now I’m a homeless wanderer, every night sleeping out of place and waking in a confused haze.
So, kind of bright eyed mushy love and kind of melancholy, there you have it.





![tallgirltales:
Brights & bracelets & statement necklace
[via kbjb:court & hudson]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lu33m7CMWv1qbo6dco1_400.jpg)


