Your lack of knowing what to do in social social situations defines who you are.

I cannot recall who has told me this, directly or indirectly.

I sit and an apartment that isn't mine, closed off to a city that I wasn't born in. What makes someone belong? Is it blood right, or the knowledge that one has put their name in the city they sleep in? What makes us call someplace home? If I said the people I love, I would be referring to so many different places. If I were to say the money and resources I put into a city, would I feel I belong to anywhere? From the depths of this depressive cycle, I cannot say I feel content with the energy I put into one single place. I would tell you I should keep trying and traveling. "I can do better", I would tell myself in the mirror.

I do not want a home, yet I feel compelled by every commercial to build one. How can I buy this product if I have in a place to store it? I could not buy the product, because I have decided I do not want job. 

My head swirling with my accomplishments and failures, I considered trying to make it through this modern era without money. Remove the convenience of immediate gain from my grasp. What would have to be done to find myself consistently alive and well? What would bring me joy, what habits could I break with very little to my name and being? Could I create sustainability in the constant change of my being?

So I'll write new beginnings, and start the month of August, the month of my birth and return to a place i fled two years ago, with no want for money. I will work in trades and barter, and go off hope alone on days I have little to offer. The voice in my mind sounds so feeble on this leather couch I never bought. All I want is to eat, be safe, and travel as much as I possibly can. That's been done before, by myself and countless others, It can still feel scary. I look at the captions on the muted News Channel and see death and fear from every corner. I wonder what made Gloria Steinem scared. I think about Cheryl Strayed shaking in the passenger seat. I imagine Amanda Palmer walking into stranger's arms. I know I can do this, and I don't want money, I just want help.

"I hope you find what you are looking for" left of the lips of my brother, and though I knew I had no idea what I was looking for,  I smiled and said "thank you" all the same.