The truth is that if I update daily I’m not sure how helpful it would be to anyone trying to keep up with me. I spend a lot of days just keeping myself focused. Describing this isn’t a habit I’m in and I’m not sure who I’d even be having that conversation with. Recording any of it makes no sense at all. It would contain too much of what you wouldn’t normally see, and wouldn’t want to see.

There are things I want to get done. I have four or five things underway almost all the time. It’s been the line since I can remember, since deciding it was all up to me. That’s probably about age 15 or 16, half of my living time ago, the year I made a run for it. If someone asks what I do I don’t even know how to answer. I usually just say I’m a student but that copout won’t be truthful much longer. What do I do for money? Or what do I do for having been born?

My line wouldn’t look straight to someone else. I understand that and it’s fine. It doesn’t look straight because they’re not on the course. Some people’s lines are circles, soft and rounded. I choose not to come back to the place I started. I move forward.

I’ll be moving on soon. This is the longest amount of time I’ve lived in one place since before the dash. The longest I’ve been around the same people. Hell I’ve even collected objects. I have a dresser. Can you believe that shit? I have a table with folding leaves. Just two or three years ago if someone had told me this would happen I would have laughed in their face before punching it square for lying.

It’s been an OK experiment. I’ve created some comforts for others in case they might fill in one of my missing pieces. This is what happens to people who don’t keep it going. People get tired or distracted from the line. It’s less foreign to me than before. Besides, a girl likes it when you have a pot to cook in, when you have more than one ratty towel, when your bed “matters”. I see the domestic stuff around me these days and shrug rather than shudder. It doesn’t anger me. I know what it’s for and it’s been worth it so far. But it’s not me, not at all. I wake up almost every day thinking about what order I’ll clear stuff out again. I spent almost a year in this place with almost no furniture at all, still basically living out of a backpack despite having three empty bedrooms, an empty living room, an empty kitchen. It was a great year. I had a ground pad and a tent footprint under a blanket I’ve had since high school. I’d rotate the camp around: the small room, the medium room, the living room corner, the master bedroom. It was great. There was an echo.

It’s important to know that when you leave, you’re not leaving anything behind.

See, I told you it wouldn’t make any sense. But you asked for it.