December 12th, 2003


Little girl lost in a forest of dreams

"Wait and see." "It'll all work out in the end." "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." And the bridges go past as if seen from a moving train; and none of them are crossed, but rather ducked under, bypassed, ignored. And it does not work out in the end, because there is no end; there is only a journey, and there are only request stops, and to fall asleep for a moment is to awaken many miles away, no longer certain of your destination.

I am so tired of waiting. So tired of waking.

I have lost my way so badly, and I don't know how to get back. Real life has no ruby slippers, nor even a shining silver thread.

There's no place like home.