Monday, August 31, 2009
Alone
This afternoon at 3, I dropped off my keys and left the Invisible Suburb behind for good.
I also said a final goodbye to everyone associated with my time there. I didn't handle it well. A better man would have been friendly and optimistic or at least kept up a solid veneer of civility and decorum. I am not a better man. Not by a longshot.
There were tears. There were laments and regrets. There were questions: Was it worth it? Did it ever mean anything? When will things get better? There were questions and there were answers, but the answers provided little comfort and the questions continue to wrangle and twist like little maggots in the back of my brain.
I left the Invisible Suburb, packed my car after a final hug and exchange of goodbyes and drove back to my new bachelor pad, my studio, jammed full to the brim with cardboard and memories. I ponder still what might have been and hope that everything works out for the best...but I'm not optimistic. I'm alone. Even in a big a city as this one, I'm alone. Perhaps eventually I work up the courage to change that, but for today, for right now, it hurts too much.
If I were a drinker, I would consider alcohol as a refuge, but I know that just delays the pain, hides it rather than eliminates it. The only solution I have at this point is to pick up the pieces of my life and rebuild, rebuild without the suburbs (or more accurately, the Suburb) and everything associated with that part of my life.
Which is not to say I won't miss it. Most likely it will itch like a phantom limb for the rest of my life and I will somehow need to come to terms with the fact that there are some pains that you just can't cure outright. The only solutions are hard work and time.
This afternoon at 3, I dropped off my keys and left the Invisible Suburb behind for good.
I also said a final goodbye to everyone associated with my time there. I didn't handle it well. A better man would have been friendly and optimistic or at least kept up a solid veneer of civility and decorum. I am not a better man. Not by a longshot.
There were tears. There were laments and regrets. There were questions: Was it worth it? Did it ever mean anything? When will things get better? There were questions and there were answers, but the answers provided little comfort and the questions continue to wrangle and twist like little maggots in the back of my brain.
I left the Invisible Suburb, packed my car after a final hug and exchange of goodbyes and drove back to my new bachelor pad, my studio, jammed full to the brim with cardboard and memories. I ponder still what might have been and hope that everything works out for the best...but I'm not optimistic. I'm alone. Even in a big a city as this one, I'm alone. Perhaps eventually I work up the courage to change that, but for today, for right now, it hurts too much.
If I were a drinker, I would consider alcohol as a refuge, but I know that just delays the pain, hides it rather than eliminates it. The only solution I have at this point is to pick up the pieces of my life and rebuild, rebuild without the suburbs (or more accurately, the Suburb) and everything associated with that part of my life.
Which is not to say I won't miss it. Most likely it will itch like a phantom limb for the rest of my life and I will somehow need to come to terms with the fact that there are some pains that you just can't cure outright. The only solutions are hard work and time.
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