I want to talk about some feelings I've been having. I met someone about 4-5 months ago, and we've been hang gliding and getting by together ever since. I don't know how exactly to say my feeling is toward her, though. Ever since I got here, I have deliberately avoided most of this kind of closeness because, the way I see it, I left all those kinds of things back in the states. Some of my reasons for coming here were that I was tired of fighting the way I was, and also tired of giving love with no end result besides death.

But this person has somehow sabotaged my asylum claim. She came into my life, having nowhere else to go, at the time. If I hadn't have picked her up, I'm sure her family or someone would've, but I still don't believe in accidental circumstances enough to say it wasn't a significant happening. I almost threw her back in the street, for being an overly jealous, somewhat destructive and generally invasive being. Welcoming someone into my life was a lot like adopting a small, jealous little girl.

But things have changed, or they haven't changed and I've just learned to button down my things and ignore it. We work together. We go out and get to know this city, to which we're both still new together. We cook together. She is currently fast asleep, less than 1 foot behind me.

I cannot even think love applies to this situation, but what I do know is these have probably been the best days of my life, for no other reason than I've been sharing them, meaningfully and constantly. I do know, it is nice to have a family that I chose. Not to say my own family wasn't good but I never felt very close to any one of them, beyond a certain age and I'm sure I didn't help that improve with my separatist campaign that landed me here.

After that and after all the handful of times I worked up the courage to give someone my trust and hopes and best wishes, hoping to get their handful of the same thing only to... not have that happen time and time again, I can say, this is a nice life.

I think about this because I keep having dreams, about going home. About the time when this is all gone and a memory. They feel very real. I'm not sad, but disturbed by them. I've been told that when you have dreams that hit home like that, it usually means God is trying to tell you something.

I don't know what to call this. I know what it isn't. I also know I will miss it when it's gone again. At least this time, when I fall back to Earth,I'll have a few things that no one can take from me.

I'll have memories to bring with me, take out and play with when I need to remember how good life can feel, and bite down on when life hurts.I'll have the things I felt that I don't have to share with anyone beyond this. I'll recall enjoying myself deeply, the way I have done so few times in life, so far.

I don't know if it makes me hopeful about life. I just rejoice at the fact that, willing or not at first, I got some time to experience this kind of happiness, even though it's only been just a few months, and may only be a few months more.

If that's all I get, I'm grateful, still.

 Time and time again, I've reflected on how things have changed this year. I have arrived at the conclusion that I do not regret anything except the things that I wasted time on.