Inner Workings

December 6, 2001

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Among my own, or so I thought to be, but as the days went by I found a hidden side to my dimensions, a side that disagreed, and in some aspects, detested, the very people I once sought to know. They wander the world scoring job after job never staying longer than a year, never finding a place to call home. Making a career out of travelling nonstop used to be my ultimate goal, but I guess I am too much of a homebody to admit this fantasy into my reality. Too much soul searching has been administered for there to be no sign of advancement. Perhaps my focus should be placed closer to the surface and not so far in depth. It is on nights like this, when the day has been uneventful, and the week has been wasted, that I question my patterns of thought and doubt my intuition. I once believed that human beings don’t change. In the long run, despite outer appearances, likings, and tastes, and careers, people remain the same as do their inner workings. An overwhelming feeling tempted me into believing that I might one day make a connection, but I will never be among my own, for no one ever is.

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist