I am a coward. I am a heartbroken, confused hermit who tries to revive my social side with periods of frenzied lovemaking to Kla just to desperately burrow further into myself afterward. Lately I have to literally run away from
, not from shame at the hedonistic activities I’ve participated in, but from fear at the overburdening, groundless, limbo of my life. It’s all empty space where once there was a mission; even though I had to cut the path myself, scarring my body and heart in the process, at least I thought I was going somewhere, at least I knew which direction to take. Kampala
I do the same with my life. When moving from vision, to plan, to action, I still try to make each part of my decision mimic my physical movements- trying to stop in the midst of momentum so as to adjust and regain my balance even before anything…apparent has happened. I tend towards taking tiny baby steps, even when I’m supposed to be swimming; the grace of this habit in movement is simply ironic in life, and that irony turns to tragedy when I lose my footing by a wave or a sudden moment of depth.