Once again on the edge of a journey

This has been a year of journeys outside of my comfort zone. I've been on one for the past nine days and it ends tomorrow when I board a train back to Charlottesville. 

Would anyone ever want to know this information? Is it worth typing out? 

I do not know anymore. I only know that at any moment when I am writing, I am alive and capturing the moment I am in. At the moment, the cat I've been sitting wants attention but he keeps realizing I'm not his regular people. 

I do have people but I get lost in myself so much I don't see them. I wake up every day and don't quite know who I am. I dream about cities I've never seen, and wake up in a small town that's growing fast and I've documented the progress. 

Will I keep doing it? 

That's the question on my mind as I am at the end of this journey and very close to being home, the home where my parents' furniture is waiting for me to allow me to continue to live the rest of my life. 

I will likely continue to live in Charlottesville. I would like to travel more and see other places. The other night I drove to Philadelphia for a concert, something I had to fight my anxiety to be able to do. 

The entire day of the show the anxiety in me kept trying to tell me reasons not to go. My knee hurt. I would get lost. I would be alone in a crowd.

But I went, and I will forever have many memories of overcoming myself to have an experience I really wanted to have. 

I'm not ready to write about that yet. I have a feeling I need to be typing on some of that furniture that used to belong to my parents but is now in my own home. I'm a human and I attach memories to physical objects and now I've got the dining room table I grew up on in my own house. 

The house I'm not sure how long will be there. I have a lot of anxiety about that and it's tied to why I am looking forward to being off of this break and back home.

I'll take the train. My favorite part about being here is hearing the train horns every 20 minutes or so. My journey here began on foot and my journey home will end on foot. 

I'll keep writing. This unadvertised public journal feels sometimes like the safest place but obviously I have no idea who will read this. I just know I have to write to stay alive.