“i’ve decided to stay where i am for the time being,” he writes as if he knew where he was or had any sense of time or being.

I’ve thought and thought about living outside this house where I have stayed for the past 6 months that feel like a complete blur. everything has pirouetted, spiraled out of control and it is just too overwhelming to try to catch up, to catch a glimpse of the surface of the water, the only thing that almost feels like it is in my control is to not take any sort of action of any kind. So my decision to stay is not to be read as a commitment to be here.

the owner of the house wants me to stay, i think partly because she likes me and her 11 year old daughter seems to like me and I don’t seem to make myself very visible. So she is converting her garage into an artist work/live space, or so she has in mind. i don’t completely trust that this will happen, but I’ve decided to pretend it will. to have faith. But faith in what?

i think maybe my big problem is the part about letting go. i am terrified to let go. to step towards something new feels perilous, like i will lose everyone. and if i lose everyone, there will be no one around to let me know whether or not I really exist.


About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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