I am a mess.
I live in a different country every month
I forget what language to speak
I eat whatever is put in front of me, whether it be of any nutritional value or not.
I live out of a backpack.
I sleep wherever I can.
I am a mess.
I go through a series of emotions everyday never in any certain pattern
I laugh hysterically at the most random things
I occasionally cry myself to sleep
I have no job, but to talk to strangers
I go days without bathing
I'm a mess
I kiss random children I meet on the street
I give my heart away daily
I wear the same clothes all the time
I ask strangers to pose for pictures
I spend hours each day swatting at insects, it's become a game
I'm a mess
I have 45 brothers and sisters that I found out about not too long ago
I speak to God outloud as if he's seated beside me
I sing at the top of my lungs as if I'm alone or in the shower
I share poop stories at the dinner table
I can't get through the day without taking my pills
I'm a mess.
I get anxious when I think about changing lifestyles
I find it hard to believe how quickly time goes by
I think about home, my family and my friends
I wonder what life would be like; how neat and tidy I'd be if this never happened
I shake it off and thank God for what he's done. What he's made of me. Who I am.
I'm a mess.
A simply perfect mess.
