The Flight of the Rocketman

Haven't been here a while because I've moved out. And in my hurried rush, I moved in without curtains, exposing my naked body walking all over my new apartment. I realized the freedom of living in my own place. If anyone lived in the condo that is facing my window, then I would've just have exposed myself to my neighbors. But I have not had that opportunity. The condo facing mine is empty.

In my hurried rush to move out, I forgot to bring plates or utensils. I have no ways or means to eat. In my hurried rush to move out, I forgot to bring pan or pots. I have an electric stove but nothing to cook with. My books and CDs are all over the floor and I don't even have a floor mat or rug for the bathroom.

And I love it. It's mine. I live alone now. I am now having to fend for myself. The feeling is weird. I now have all this freedom. And now I have all this responsibility. It's strange. There's so much you want to do; yet there's so much you have to prepare for. I call it Lost In Transition.

That's what I am now. I am Lost In Transition. I just exploded with the options that were available to me. I went dancing and lost myself in the dance, in the movement. I allowed myself to lose my identity in the throes of passion, in the throes of the music. And I did... twice in a row; getting home at morning and with sweat, adorning my clothes and my glow and aura.

I'm proud of what I have been able to do. At 25, the youngest in my family to have moved out -- my other siblings were much older when they finally moved out and some of my siblings have yet to completely... So I'm proud of that fact.

But I seem to have lost my way... I can't wait to get stable and to get back. I want to be reliable again.