The night is calling

It hits me hard. Waking up at 4am, I feel a sudden surge of loneliness. A familiar kind of loneliness. The old wolf is at the door. It bares it's teeth laughing at me, at my callous hands, at my conflicted psyche, and it asks- What are you doing here?

I see the light just outside the room. I want to run to it before the day reclaims the truths of my night. There are voices that whisper my guilt. My mistress is seductive, if only because
her arms are shallow but always wanting. She smiles, confident I will always return to her, then asks - Isn't this who you are?

People will always be your cage if you let them. It is your curse. The old wolf glares knowingly as it tells me this. It sounds so unfair that it must be true. But I am free, if I want to be. I can roam the open roads and take my life. I don't have to be here. I do not have to wait for their understanding. They cannot change, and neither can I. And we are not the same. So I ask, why do I try?

The night is calling. I cannot deny it for too long. It is who I am. Better to be the wandering homeless than the comforted hopeless.

....

"Not all who wander are lost."