The Tourist (with audio)

To belong

within

or

to belong

without

knowing

whether

you are really shifting

to something different

or statically

being

is something

that she isn’t.

Do you belong here?

In every place she goes,

she knows,

she doesn’t belong here.

Never quite

the right fit,

for every shift

has felt

like a tilt

towards

the next thing

and not this

thing

that she’s currently in.

The perpetual

tourist

of being.

Visiting

and never living

in one space

long enough

to call it

her place.

Do you belong here?

Never a member

of any group

for longer than

necessary

for her to learn

she doesn’t belong here.

Or there.

Or anywhere

where

there

is more

than

her.

As if the combination

of mixing

herself

with other beings

makes things

cloudy

and unlivable.

Do you belong here?

The skill of

being fulfilled in

one thing

rather than

many things

makes no sense to her.

She isn’t just

one thing.

She’s so many

things

that being just

one thing

seems

boring.

An ordinary

way of

being.

Do you belong here?

In case you

wondered,

it isn’t a gift

of morphing

between things

–although

she is quite

good

at being

many things–

it’s more like:

a foot in one thing

and a foot in

the next thing.

Separated

but still

connected

–barely–

between things.

Ready to leave

as soon as things

get too heavy

or someone

cleverly

notices

and asks her:

Do you belong here?

She lives in fear

she’ll have to

someday

answer

to where

she’s been

or to whom

she’s been with.

She drifts

between each ride

and hides

any parts

that don’t fit right.

Because true belonging

doesn’t feel right.

True belonging

feels like

a tight fit

of things

she isn’t.

Only bits

and pieces

of what

she is

but as a whole

isn’t.

It isn’t always

a pleasant

way to be

–though–

when feeling

accepted

is never meant to be.

Do you belong here?

She sometimes wishes

she fit

inside their circles,

because

wouldn’t things

be easier that way?

Wouldn’t she feel

settled

in some ways

if she just latched on

permanently

to something

other than

nothing?

But each version

of her

is just

visiting.

She’s constantly

shifting

to the next

thing.

She’s neither here

nor there

but just

about

everywhere.

Do you belong here?

In every place she goes,

she knows,

she doesn’t belong here.