November 30, 2014

  • City and Colour, "Coming Home"

    I wake up not disappointed anymore, but in a very slow, soft cocoon of acceptance. The more I think about Dakota, the more I know that was just an unrealistic conquest, maybe just reached simply to see if I could get what I wanted. He just turned 23, he's married, and the bits and pieces of his past he has revealed are all big red flags-- then getting that message in the middle of the night from David, "I love you beyond the confines of distance and time," beautiful and tragic. Being sober isn't so terrible any more, I've started to feel better about breathing. I know that none of this will last-- this job, these friendships, they all will eventually curdle and sour, its just a matter of what sort of shelf life they might have. Which is sad because I sincerely like the job and actually love Stephanie as the first real friend I have had in years. The problem is, Colorado isn't home. The next problem is, I don't know where home is. I get twisted up in little bits of the past but not so much lately, I just have been logging them in-- these experiences, these foolish thoughts, just jotting them down. Just like the list of names in my journal.

    And we've just passed the quarter-quell.

    I took a shift I didn't really want just so that I could secure my place with Steph. I want to make art but have no real way to do it and don't feel like just arbitrarily tracing. Maybe I will anyway. Something to do with my hands.