this isn’t right. it’s not that something’s broken, or missing, or misaligned. it’s not like the furniture\u2019s all wrong or the light doesn\u2019t hit the windows quite right. it’s not that something hasn\u2019t arrived yet or that something\u2019s been forgotten. it’s not even chaos. it’s not noise or clutter or imbalance. it’s just… not right. completely and fundamentally not right. like an itch you can\u2019t reach or a word that\u2019s just out of grasp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
it\u2019s like stepping into a house that looks exactly like yours. same number on the door, same creak in the floorboard when you step in, same smell in the hallway. but none of it settles in your bones the way home should. none of it says you belong here. you try to make it make sense\u2014check your phone, retrace your steps, say maybe i\u2019m tired, maybe i\u2019m overwhelmed\u2014but deep down, you know. this is not right. it looks like it, but it isn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and i\u2019m halfway across the world at this very moment, technically somewhere beautiful, somewhere people save up and dream about, but none of that lands. it feels like i\u2019ve slipped out of sync with everything. like the version of me that was supposed to be here is stuck in traffic and i\u2019m just the understudy waiting to be told what to do next. i sit still, i try to be quiet, i try to rot in peace. and even that\u2014something that should be so easy\u2014feels off. like i\u2019m failing at doing nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
i reach out, throw little lines into the water. a few texts, a few updates. but everyone\u2019s busy, everyone\u2019s in their rhythm. they\u2019ve got their right houses with their right people and their right routines. and that\u2019s fine. really, i mean that. i\u2019m not bitter. it\u2019s not resentment. it\u2019s just observation. if i were in my right house, i\u2019d probably be unreachable too. i\u2019d be folding laundry or making dinner or doing some deeply mundane thing and loving it because it would feel like mine. but instead i\u2019m here, floating above everything like a ghost in my own life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
i wonder if i\u2019m supposed to be doing something about this. like, is there a map? am i supposed to be hunting for the right house like a lost dog sniffing its way back home? or is that the wrong metaphor. maybe you don\u2019t find the house, maybe you build it. maybe you unpack one box at a time until the wrong place softens and reshapes itself around you. maybe it never feels exactly right, but it becomes less wrong. but i don\u2019t know. i don\u2019t even know what kind of wallpaper i\u2019d pick if given the chance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
i keep trying to find something to hold onto\u2014some thread that will anchor me\u2014but most of the time i just feel like i\u2019m slipping. not in a dramatic, falling-off-a-cliff kind of way, more like a slow slide into nothing in particular. like time is leaking out around me, pooling on the floor, and i can\u2019t scoop it up fast enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
so here i am. suspended in this almost-life, with too much and not enough all at once. feeling like i\u2019m burning daylight, squandering beauty, letting things wilt in my hands. but i don\u2019t know how to stop it. or change it. or even name it properly. i just know this isn\u2019t right. and that i\u2019m tired of pretending like it might be if i just squint hard enough.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
this isn’t right. it’s not that something’s broken, or missing, or misaligned. it’s not like the furniture\u2019s all wrong or the light doesn\u2019t hit the windows quite right. it’s not that something hasn\u2019t arrived yet or that something\u2019s been forgotten. it’s not even chaos. it’s not noise or clutter or imbalance. it’s just… not right. … Continue reading the right house<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-835","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-sad"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nocarrier.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/835","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nocarrier.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nocarrier.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nocarrier.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nocarrier.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=835"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/nocarrier.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/835\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":836,"href":"https:\/\/nocarrier.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/835\/revisions\/836"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nocarrier.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=835"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nocarrier.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=835"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nocarrier.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=835"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}