I’ve been actually traveling around in a van for the last two weeks. I say ‘actually traveling’ because I’ve mostly been stationary since I moved into my car in January of 2018. Yes, I have moved to different places over the last 8 months, but once I arrived, I stayed there for at least a few weeks. This is the first time that I have been moving to new places every couple of days. And I’m not alone. I’m traveling in my partner’s van with him. It has been incredibly disorienting and ungrounding. I feel like I have an emotional case of vertigo. Yes, it’s been fun. It has been relaxing, at times. We are extremely lucky to be able to live like this. And…I have never craved a bedroom so much in this time as I do now. I have never craved a retreat into blankets or nature. Solitude. Meditation. Silence. I think the first thing that makes it challenging is the compromise. The constant need to communicate so we both get, well, what we need. I am so grateful that open and honest communication has been the foundation of our relationship. And yet, I see how easily things go unsaid, assumptions go unchecked, disappointments are inevitable. Sometimes, when I am with another person, I don’t even know what I want. Or more likely, I know what I want, but it’s buried so deep beneath the fear of rejection, that I have a hard time finding it. He asks, “Do you want to go to a cafe?” And I feel. I literally just feel. And often, what I feel is twisting. Or absence. Absence of thought. Absence of direction. Just a feeling. An indescribable desire to please the other. In this moment, I sit in a coffeeshop. I write for the first time in fucking months. It feels good to put thoughts to form; to written realness. No conclusions at this time. Just a need to express the nearly unexpressed torment of a deep-thinking feeler.