CLIV.

It's not like I asked to be here.
Where I am.
Desolate.
Or maybe I did.
Maybe when I whispered those convicted words into my bed sheets late at night Maybe this is what I was really asking for.
Maybe.
Wandering mile long airplane terminals.
Searching for something.
Searching for God.
Like maybe I'll find him in California.
Or any other place.
Or maybe he's waiting.
On standby.
Like myself.
Like all of us, in a sense.
But like I said, this isn't what I imagined.
I never wanted to be this blank.
Empty.
I never thought I'd be content with apathy.
I thought I had passion.
I thought I had something more.
I thought wrong.
It's not like I want to die like this.
Live like this.
Is there any difference anymore?
But in all of it, all of this.
All this is.
I know we won't be getting on the next plane to California.
I knew it all along.
But for some reason I came anyway.
I hoped anyway.
I cared anyway.
Maybe, hopefully.
Maybe.