Leaving Comfortable

As I'm walking through the little park in the middle of the city the stars catch my eye. They're twinkling calmly above me. The moon is to my left. It's almost full. There's nobody around except the faint smell of weed, so somebody must've walked by not long ago. But for now it's just me. Looking at the stars brings me back to all the other places I've noticed them, like really noticed them. I walk slower until I come to a full stop so I can take a deep breath and take it all in. I let my eyes wander over the buildings towering up here and there in this relatively short town. It's night time and I'm walking home alone, feeling completely safe. I have no worries here. Life is smooth. Easy. There are people here who will catch me if or when I fall. It's comfortable here. Like sitting in an arm chair you've sat in for so long it's shaped after you. You sit the way you're expected to sit in it and you know every little crook in it or flaw in the fabric like the back of your hand. I wish I could stay in what's comfortable. I wish it was enough. It's enough for so many people. I wish I could appreciate comfortable and safe without knowing I was leaving it. I wish I didn't need distance to make the heart grow fonder. For a second I pretend to be fine if comfortable was what all that would be in store for me. I take another deep breath and I look at the stars that keep multiplying. I'm thinking of all the other places I'll make my new comfortable and from where I'll look at the same moon and the same twinkling stars. I start walking home. Each step being one step closer to leaving comfortable.