(Aside, to his mirror): Am I naked enough for you?


am a man of many mistakes. Born of The Tower and The Chariot, i am always bound to be uprooted- and G-d always ensured i was. Before graduating high school, i lived in eleven different homes, apartments, shacks, and not-so-spare spare bedrooms across three towns and a city.
Loneliness has followed me all over the map. I always counted on my legal adulthood to give me the ability to leave wherever my folks "settled down" that year, but now i lay on the ground, 19, stuck in a state i wasn't supposed to be in. I see that if i want community, i have to pick up my shovel and dig: if i do not see myself in the crowd, i will have to make sure someone else has the chance to.
Equally as unfortunate as it is that in order to be a writer you must write, and in order to live you must continue.
I feel no security that has to do with improving the human condition. I need to be able to learn and expand at a liberating, free pace, as slow or as fast as that may be. i need to be held and touched. I need to have a home. I need people, more than anything- face-to-face or pen-to-pen, as every day i fantasize about "stomping on my phone like a cigarette," or watching a kitchen sink, empty of anything but my computer, fill with water.


I need to see this come to life. I need to honor the hardest mitzvah to never violate: i shall never put a stumbling block in front of a blind* man. I cannot imagine utter freedom, but i can see it in how other people create. I can hear it in how people respond when i teach. I can see it in everyone dear to me, but particularly in friends who cannot wait to grow old.
I am too curious about life and what i can make of this turn to actively give it up. I will see innumerable blows to my foundations, and i will see what may survive with me. I am always going to make something of this.