I was sat in the car today, off to get some oil for the FireBlade, waiting at the lights, watching the wind play with the daises on the roadside when I really started to really understand a few things.
For the last few months I've been feeling really lost, like I don't belong. I'm finding my new job harder than I had expected and if I'm honest, a little difficult to find my place. Don't get me wrong, it's full of some great people and my department has some serious talent running through it, but I still feel like an outsider. Those who really know me, will know that I have no problems speaking and interacting with people, but it whilst waiting at those lights today, that I started to see. I don't have a place at work, because I don't have a place that is really mine at home.
While I sit here writing, I look up and see pictures of people I don't know, books I have no interest in and objects that aren't mine. The one and only place I feel home is when I close that visor on my helmet, lean forward, grab the bars and let out that clutch. Since January, the road has really been the only home I've had, the only constant from my life before. It sounds like a bit of a cliche I admit, but its honestly, at the moment anyway, the place I feel most at peace.
Once the house situation is under control and I have a place that is mine again I'm sure I'll start to feel at home again and finally get the chance to break out some Dylan.