Home is where my habits have a habitat
He goes along just as a water lily Gentle on the surface of his thoughts his body floats Unweighed down by passion or intensity Yet unaware of the depth upon which he coasts And he finds a home in me For what misfortune sows, he knows my touch will reap
Because for whatever reason, even though I want to stay home all the time and be left alone, I want to tell the world who I am now.
I might sound crazy about this but, years ago, my mom told me: "We almost died when you were born. Both of us." I was a Caesarean baby, and the doctor who delivered me later told me, "I opened your mother up, and you were right there. It freaked me out because everything was broken and out-there." I've thought about it a lot - could this have something to do with the fact that I'm only happy when I'm at home and alone? Maybe I was just freaking out for two weeks before I was born, feeling really insecure.
I'd say that I've been reclusive the last 34 years. That was my big thing as a kid, staying home from school. I've trained myself to be psychosomatically sick a lot. Anytime I go out, it is just something to deal with, even walking to the grocery store. If I'm supposed to go from one place to another place that isn't that comfortable, I usually don't go.
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