A ghost ship. I am on autopilot. Not sure where I am at the moment, but I know where I am not. At home. Long hours. Sleepless nights. Dorms of accomplishments. Quads of missed opportunities- because the thrill of the seek, the drive of the do- is alluring. Sometimes though my campus of personality needs a vacation.
This is not me. I am home.
Blinds shut tight. Comfy duvet. Down pillows. Slumber.
Which hotel is this? Not a one night accommodation. For me- my bed.
I am eager for a new journey- but, the thought of becoming a ghost ship is unbearable. Endless travel, is not on my wish list. I like to be home. I like to be near my family.
Yet, I also want to be a writer. So keeping to my simple plan- excess will not become accessible to me anytime soon.
My campus of personality is not a 'rager' it is not a 'rush week' -simply, because I would rather sit in a quiet library and read. But, I love attending lectures and people watching. I like a quiet social, so to speak.
Does being successful mean, leaving home? Not necessarily.
I think for now, I will write. On my computer, behind my desk. Home sweet home.
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