Quiet.

And I belong everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It hit me today, when directly asked. Where do I live? I feel like I live in Muskegon. In the heart of Lake Michigan. But ratios tell me I live in Lansing. And logic tells me I live in California. And roots tell me I live in India. And emotions tell me that I live nowhere at all.

I cannot expect anyone to be perfect. But wouldn't it be nice?

So where is my location? Honestly, I live inside my head. Inside my head, on sheets of paper, on long forgotten walls in abandoned houses, in skies of blue and grey and a rainbow of yellows. I live within everything I write and nothing I say. I live within myself. And that is where I will remain.