Biko

Today I was aimless, travelling on unfamiliar trains with unfamiliar faces. Where I would end up was erroneous, I didn't know, I didn't know how to know, and for once it was nice to not be running away. I was just adventuring.

I like who I am when I don't know who to be.

At some point, My Gentleman Caller found me on my adventures and joined me. He sat next to me, his knee pressed into my thigh, our arms and hands tangled together, and in him, as always, I found solace.

Belonging is a tricky thing- it's not just how you fit, its where you long to be. I don't know where I want to be. Perth is home, Bunbury is home, the edge of my balcony is home, My Gentleman Caller's arms are home, the pylon at Cottesloe is home, nowhere is home, I am comfortable and out of my element in so many places. Where I fit one day is foreign the next. The world is new, and while I am unconditionally in love with the bliss and the harsh ugliness, I am also unfamiliar and scared, easily shaken, unsure of how solid the ground may be before me.

The world isn't kind to little things, but it is forgiving. Love is where you find it, and I choose to look for it in reflections, so that one thing can stay constant.