Portland

I'm sitting in a coffee shop that doubles as a barista school looking out at multiple layers of highway, fences and rubble. 

Mikal and I split a few days ago. I wanted to get into Portland and she wanted to stick to the coast. I hopped a bus not thinking I could make 80 miles before dark.

I'm in portland until my jacket gets here. I'm getting a little antsy and wanting to get on the road but that rain jacket is a bit important. It's been awesome staying with Abby. Getting along with her seems effortless after our NOLS trip. 

I should be happy with where I am and what I'm doing but something feels like it's missing. It's in my gut. Loneliness. Some of it is homesickness and some of it is not knowing where I'll be this winter. What life will I give up? Or what new one will I gain. I hate feeling in control of my own future. I want it to happen the way it is supposed to with a bit of guidance from my intuition. 

I get nervous about traveling with people. A kid told me once that I was better off alone, that I didn't know how to work with people. I can't get it out of my head, probably because I feel it's somewhat true. That anxiety spreads into me thinking I'll never find someone. I will be that lady with the cats. 

I have never been able to live in a single place or stay with one group. I'm a floater. I get enjoyment out of seeing all different cultures and ways of doing things. I did this when I was little between my moms house an my dad's, I had two seperate lives. Then on into high school with different sports and groups of friends and now, with simotanious lives goin on all around the world. Where do I belong? I have no idea, i sometimes wonder if I'll ever find it. 

There is a certain beauty in being alone. I watch the world going on around me and have complete control over wether or not I want to join it. I can remain invisible which is a humbling feeling. Here in the city I remember how big the world is, I choose my size in it and observe. I find it hard to make eye contact with the homeless. I am so sensitive to their struggles I'm scared to look them in the eye. In scared to communicate and to know their struggles, I don't want to feel the guilt walking away, what separates us? A bit of luck? A stupid decision? A misfortune? I'm not better than them. So why am I scared to reach out? 

With that thought, what is it with the rich? I feel myself make a quick glance and look away? Out of respect? It's not like most of them are aware of the world around them anyway, I feel I have complete freedom in my ability to stare and go unnoticed. Are they happy? To me they seem disconnected, unlike the homeless and the poor. Those people have stories and character and layers. They live on the surface and are venerable to the world. I respect them.