Missing Home

"I have wandered so far from home,
like a plane from its aerodrome.
Which in dense fog strays into the dark..
Am I living, dead, leaves, or grass?"

If there is something called writer's block out there, I certainly am having the opposite of it at the very moment. My brain won't stop moving and the voices inside my head won't hush. I'm having too many stuffs going on, and the best policy is to blurt it all out. Out, out, out.