Perhaps it's only a moment and this time will pass.
all i can really do is wait and let things balance out themselves.

Perhaps it is perfectly ok to be languid and idle and not want to do anything for a while.

After all, inspiration can not be forced. can't wish for a change for the sake of change. can't force myself into decisions i'm still not ready to make. it will all happen in its own time. all the fret and worries simply taint what otherwise could be calm and spotless happiness. and undisturbed peace.

i could be happy. if only i let it be. and cherish this moment for what it really is.
no more and no less.
a moment to be still and quiet. and grateful.

after all it's only a moment. and it will pass, like everything else.

I keep telling myself that all I want is some sense of normality and a little peace of mind. But I stop right there without further questioning of what this normality entails. What exactly does it mean, normality, to me- this one, seemingly simple, and yet the most relative, subjective and changeable concept of all? Where do I draw the line, my own personal line, between what’s normal and acceptable and what’s not? How do I make my own definitions of uniform ordinariness? And why, why is it that this sense of normality is so important to me now?

Once I used to find comfort in a newfound realization of how similar we, as humans, are. And how much there is that we share in common. Made it easier for me to accept and understand myself and relate to someone outside of my skin; gave me compassion and tolerance towards others for merely being human... And being connected to every other human and not alone in our behavior patters, thoughts and emotions. It made me happy – just thinking about it. Somewhat relieved of unnecessary pressure of trying to be different, special in some way. Even remotely distinguished by something other than being just another human being...

But then, i can't help but question whether this is a cryptic way of justifying my complete lack of ambition or any kind of aspiration for not wanting something that would make me more distinguished than the person next to me. And whether this lack of desire is as humble as it may appear at first glance or simply a sign of laziness, as if by accepting my averagness I’m giving up the effort to be something more, something better – at least a better version of myself, if not distinguished.... but then, again, i ask whether there is even half as much comfort in this sense of distinguishness as there is in the ordinariness of someone who's humble in his own humanity…

What I want is simple. Ordinary. Uncomplicated. Real. Tangible. And not abstract. I need a sense of security, stability, a sense of being protected… some kind of confidence of being able to deal with whatever future may hold for me. A need for companionship, of knowing that I’m not alone, and not in some generalized abstract sense, but in the most immediate sense of having someone physically present with you and interacting with you on the most immediate physical levels. Having the comfort of knowing that that presence is lasting, will be lasting. Wanting a place that you can call your own, a place that will give you the protection you need and partially the sense of security. A need for a home… your own home- these are all simple and ordinary things, yet very concrete things to want and need… it’s natural for someone to want to have it, is it not? It’s normal, human… basic - is it not?

If it is so, then why is it that a certain part of me feels guilty, somewhat guilty, that by wanting and choosing those things I’m forgetting and leaving out something that might be just as important? Perhaps not as common and ordinary, but as equally important?