It’s 2:00 am. I’m having trouble sleeping. Perhaps the fact that I have only a single blanket on a couch is a contributing factor.

I went to a Waffle House last night. I had never before been. It seemed almost faded, like it was pretending to be more than it was, and yet was never more than it currently was.

I’m laying on the floor with my blanket. The couch is too hot. It is humid here; sweat seeps. I have half a bar of cell service if I move to the other side of the basement. I hope it will be enough for me to post this tonight.

I’m not sure how I ended up here. I’m not sure where we’re going. I’m drifting in currents I cannot control.

Waffle House promises nothing except for waffles and a home. The first promise is met easily. The second is determined by you.

I don’t have a home. Although I do have places I can return to. Being attached to one place scares me. Not being able to return scares me more.