If the inside of your body was full of tiny figurines instead of membranes and fluids, how many of those figurines would be princesses, kept women, housewives and mothers? How many are explorers, generals and rock stars? What you WANT to want to be only counts for a small percentage of the internish army and never outweighs what you really want.

I have always wanted a life where I find myself running through dark, blank roads. I can't read the street signs because they are in a foreign language. It isn't cold, but it might be raining slightly. I'm not scared, just alone and excited.

I have lived this. I've been thousands of miles away from anybody whose name I knew and I haven't given a shit about anything.

It's amazing. It's exhausting.

I wonder if it isn't selfish. I know it is lonely, but I've more or less accepted that feeling as part of my daily set.

The most romantic parts of my life have happened when I have been alone. Running. I haven't needed anyone or anything. I remember sitting in a valley in the desert with a full moon setting on one end and the sun rising on the other. I sat there for hours, not thinking of much, being content, happy to die.

I've met strangers in unfamiliar places, spent a few hours or days in their company and left those places without any friends. Compressed time can be a substitute for intimacy.

The last few times I've done this though, I haven't felt anything new. I am getting used to it.

Which brings me to last night. I simply sat on my bed with the closest person to me in the world, stroking his hair. We were watching Mary Poppins. It's a surprisingly entertaining movie, but most of what I could think about is how an activity so pedestrian could be so warmly satisfying. I don't know. I usually require intense events to reach that level of contentment. It scares me.