Aimless

I have always been a wanderer. Not the windswept and interesting kind, but the kind totally without direction. The plastic bag floating on the breeze circa American Beauty. I feel like a small skiff caught in a storm on the ocean.

I’ve always been both free and confined by my manner. If there was a path I’ve always been unable to find it and stay on track. Which of course means I’ve always been lost but freed from the well worn roads of life. Either of these could be a blessing, but they can also be a curse.

I have a purpose. I have to just weather the storm, set sail, and see where the tide takes me. Some of us just need to embrace having no plan. Doesn’t it make it all the more interesting?