lost in transit

Everybody keeps asking: "So what's next?"

(man...) If I knew that,

I'd probably be there already.

Everybody's got somewhere to be,

Train at eight, Meeting at three.

Five-year plan, Ten-year dream,

Everybody moving like they got the same GPS but me.

Guy I knew bought a house.

Girl I knew moved west.

Somebody changed careers and says it's "for the best." Good for them.

Seriously.

I can't decide

what I'm doing Tuesday.

I wasn't running away.

Wasn't chasing anything back.

I swear I knew the direction once—

Somewhere I lost the map.

Somewhere I lost the map.

Can't remember where. Everybody sees an arrow— I just see YOU ARE

HERE.

No disaster. No big collapse.

No dramatic reason why.

Somewhere I lost the map—

AND NEVER NOTICED WHEN IT HAPPENED.

Tried following somebody else.

That lasted about a mile.

Tried pretending I had a plan.

That worked for a little while.

Said, "I'm figuring things out."

People like hearing that.

Sounds intentional.

Sounds mature. Sounds a lot better than— "I don't fucking know." There.

That's accurate. Somewhere I lost the map.

Maybe underneath a year

I spent going through the motions just because they brought me here.

Everybody says "keep moving."

Fine. Which fucking way?

Funny how nobody has an answer when you actually make them say.

North?

No. South?

Probably not. Back?

Definitely not.

Forward?

Define forward.

Maybe that's what bothers me— Nothing's technically wrong.

I wake up. Go to work.

Come home. Days move along.

No wreckage in the mirror.

No smoking aftermath.

Just looked down one afternoon— And realized I didn't have the map.

So don't tell me

"trust the journey." Don't

tell me

"follow your heart." My heart changes its fucking mind

before the car even starts.

Maybe tomorrow I'll pick a road.

Maybe I'll stay where I'm at.

But if somebody asks where I'm going— Tell 'em...

Somewhere.

Probably.