This I believe: thrusting myself into the darkness and trusting my feet to find solid ground.
The narrow view of home behind, the unknown ahead, and me — questioning, grasping for answers that I cannot reach, about the world, about myself.
At the end of this tunnel, an impossible light that I long to know, that I chase so recklessly in breathless, tender youth, falling into continents as easily as falling in love.
The soles of my shoes leaving echoes in the dust and dirt of each winding road which I wander, unsure of anything and everything.
I am lost, constantly, and I cannot be certain in being found, but this I believe: even in this dark night, no matter how hopeless it may seem, there is some wild and fluorescent flicker beating inside of me.
I take another step.
The ground does not crumble beneath me.
And so it begins again.