Yet again I find myself with the same feeling, but somehow this time things have progressed much further than they regularly do before I realise the true nature of the situation. It happens so often. Sometimes it could almost make me disheartened, but I choose not to let it.
How many places do I have to go before I can find somewhere that makes me feel at home? Constantly I find myself in places, at times, with company where I blink twice and realise that this is not where I belong. I couldn’t tell you what it is that marks that line, or how I can tell the difference. On some occasions it is more pronounced, to the point of the bleedingly obvious, on others, more subtle.
While it would be more direct to discover things about oneself that give you a sense of who you are, I muse that similarly, one can find themselves by discovering what it is that they are not.