Isn't it ironic?

Once again, I have been reminded of how making plans (in direct regard to my own life) yields nothing but new ones, often in the other direction.

Part of my plans generally unfold as I visioned them. "Part" means a footnote, a last minute addition, the fine print... not the section of the plan that is pointless, but the section of the plan that becomes pointless without the second piece. (Example; I got the lunch meat, but couldn't get my hands on any bread.)

The Scene:

It's around nine thirty in the evening. I have had the westardly window open for a great majority of the day, hoping that the fresh, ethereal breaths of the land will sweep some wise revelation in to my house; my brain that sits in its shell, cooking slowly. As evidence suggests by the twisted strange nature of my dreams, and the fogginess of my eyes, I have had a fever since morning. Even if the wind does little for the fever, she cools my achy skin and keeps the sickly taste of my lungs away from my mouth every so often. No, in comparison to others, today is not a good day. It is my lover's birthday, and I haven't any money to gift him anything. (He tells me it is nothing, not to fret or feel angst on such a behalf. He is beautiful for far more than just this.) I am ill, not as ill as I have ever been, certainly- but still an unwelcomed interruption. My mind is heavy with many things... many people, many places, promises, predictions, decisions... but there is one among the many who keep ringing the bells.

I do not want to leave this place.

Plans call for me to go. Not tomorrow, but much sooner than I would like. (Than I would ever want.) Life here is humble and loving- we are four people, understanding a great many things, and still so young yet... and at least two of us, by my conscience, are sensitive to the limitations put upon us as fragile human beings. We are in very different places, yet all at once the same- complimentary of each other, likewise and strong.

The idea of living alone intrigues me, it always has- as it has an intense emphasis on freedom. I feel, possibly more than ever, that what I need (as I need water and air) is that word that we, as young Americans, throw about proudly; freedom. My emotions have been so raw- facing a great deal of things tends to bring such things out of you. I "react" to things now- an immediate emotional response, I mean. I don't necessarily think of what it is, how it is, who it is... I just feel. This is something that had been void, and now is with me again. Although the blade is double edged, I am grateful for it.

Plans call for me to go.

And for the first time ever, all I want to do is stay.