#49 - OF WHOSE WOMB?

It feels like I was born in the wrong world. Stranded from a home I have never known. When I look at the world around me, it feels like everything I want is in odds with what I want, what I value, how I think. Everything I hold dear, disgusted and abhorred by what is to them the incomprehensible. 

Every day I spend here in this room, it feels like I've lived more through escapist voyeurism rather than actually living what I want out. I think the term is executive dysfunction. I want to live a more free and adventurous life, but I'm forced into a certain way by a blunt stick.

What is out there, waiting for me? Is anyone out there calling for me? So much yearning for a world that doesn't exist... Oh mother who is not, are you there? Of whose womb am I? The one that is who is foreign to me or the one who is not yet her bosom's warmth brings clarity to me? 

A meaningless question, for she who is not cannot answer. As much as I yearn, it does not change there is only one possibility. My whims do not change the fact that we live in the best of all worlds, because...

NIHIL EST SINE RATIONE