Building a growth shelter

At some point, 

I look to build my place. 

It need not be large in any way, shape, or form. 

But just something minescule. 

May it be aq speck of dust aboard the wind's path, 

centimeters above the sea, 

or even millions of miles below it. 

It shall be built by all that I am to become. 

I'm okay with the idea that it won't be mean much.

But a place to be mine,

that's a pipe-dream that I'd love to smoke out.

Whether I stumble upon it as a pebble in college, 

or cry it out before I leave high school, 

there will be peace there. 

Somehow in my actions within it I will know that I am fine. 

That feeling of belonging.

No, actually not that at all actually. 

I don't long to be owned by anything but myself for as long as I might live,

but that feeling that you've followed the correct path set by destiny,

the "all is right with the world" feeling.

I can't acheive world peace, 

but I like to think that if I just get a chunk of my mind into a peaceful state,

my bit of the world might touch someone else's.

At least, 

that's how I think any peace in large numbers is made.

But there's such a rarity in that of itself. 

I'd love to call that feeling satisfaction, 

but emotions are always so fickle in their one-word summations. 

Feelings would be all the more facile if they had the ability to be summarized. 

There is no word for the sheer injustice of being forced to move on in life. 

There is not a solitary word

for the acknowledgement you give as

you leave such a grandous part of yourself in a building. 

I wonder how much of myself I'll abandon here. 

How much I need to shed of my previous self.

I will always be myself, sadly or not-so-sadly, 

but I ponder how much I will have grown into myself by then.

I also ponder if my whole self will change at all. 

I've also pondered if people truly change at all,

or simply become more of themselves all together. 

It's never a wonder why small children wonder who they will someday become

They've no idea of the world around them that they're oh so sheltered from.

In high school,

even with a mere sliver of the world being fed to me with a delicate string,

a bit of that fragile wallpaper being pulled off

and revealing all of those monsters held in waiting,

there is such mass horror and hysteria.

Even my minescule corner of life wedged between the vast walls of my parents',

I could not withstand much more. 

I wonder how many exorcisms it would take in order to cleanse this tiny part of the world. 

I also ponder if it should stay,

revelling in its own filth.

It's that incessant battle of knowing when things are simply better off being left alone. 

Perhaps they will fix themselves like a rotten growth,

because everyone knows how painful it can be cutting them off.

There is no remedy to growth,

it just occurs as it wishes to.

All of the growing pains will subside eventually.

Though, I do not imagine them ever disappearing completely,

for growing may never cease. 

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace.